Moonbeams, Gravity & Ghosts
by Self-Taught
Summary: Starts the morning after "All I want is you" (end of season 4) as they battle Senator Bracken. It highlights Castle's unique contributions: He wrote Derrick Storm and he buys property on the moon. "This is so much bigger than you realize" so everyone plays some part in the battle. Now complete with the epilogue.
1. Gravitational Tides

Setting: story occurs just after end of season 4: Beckett got her butt kicked by Maddox and she had an epiphany about the important things in life. A monumental shift occurs when she gives up being a cop and gains intimacy with Castle. This story looks at everyone's role in this pivotal battle of good guys vs. the bad.

Disclaimer: I am rather certain the rightful owner of Castle has better things to do than sue me for borrowing his creation and contributing to the fandom. I'll use this space to express my appreciation to all of the Castle cast and crew for their hard work and wonderful show.

* * *

**Gravitational Tides**

"Forgive me Father for I have sinned."

"Tell me your sins that you may receive penitence."

"I gloated in the misfortune of others. A rival at work was suspended for 30 days and another quit…"

That stunned the listener. _She quit? Good God, not now… _The holy man pulled at his collar.

"…they used to run unchecked until our captain was killed. I know somehow that they are responsible…"

Father Ernesto half listened as he glanced at his watch. It was still early. There was still time to confound Lucifer's minions. Despite being recently left to fend for himself the elderly man could make it over there. He tuned back into to the officer's confession, "…so the millionaire stopped slumming with us working stiffs and maybe the other blue-eyed boy will get smart."

The priest knew this confessor and much more of the saga than one would suppose. Never would the man of faith predict such a simple ending when an epic battle promised. He let the confessor rattle on as the implications played in his mind. His recent loss and this new upset of status quo meant the demons and pawns were once again going to twist fate to meet the needs of darkness. Still, the future was uncertain and the collision of evil and avengers was not yet written. He could nudge the forces of good. The man in holy garb tuned back in to the hushed stream of words.

"…I think God was proving me right. I did some stuff but now they won't need it. I was on the side of righteousness the whole time!"

The illusion of anonymity was cast aside. "You planted evidence?"

"They were going to use it to disgrace her. Let the world see her as a woman with a vendetta instead of the tragic heroine portrayed in that damned sex novel."

_So this cop had given in. Become another pawn in the chess match. _He had guessed it would happen. Still, the man wearing the dark robe needed more information. He knew the mortal danger lurking. "We see through the veil darkly, my child. It could be that the band of avengers is merely pursuing their quarry from another angle- working without the confines and restraints of their role as officers of the law."

"I would have thought so, too. But she is gone - really gone. Her best friend, the medical examiner, can't find her; she's not answering her phone. The 2 guys who used to be partners aren't even speaking. But the best part is that _before_ all that happened the playboy was kicked out-by her- and he wasn't coming back!" The voice held a note of triumph.

Father Ernesto arched his eyebrows at the irony, _If misery loves company then the world is about to become a very loving place._

* * *

Setting: Castle's Loft

To sleep perchance to dream… Great dreams. The castle was stormed; the moat was crossed; the drawbridge was lowered! Better than the dreams were…

His eyes sprung open. The blurry edges of sleep fell away and exuberance washed over him. _My eyes spy a naked detective! _He wanted to label it a dream come true but a snippet nagged at his memory. _Detective? If naked Beckett isn't a dream then neither is her resignation! Damn, this is huge. _His attention span (or lack thereof) was claimed once again by the enticing form snuggled into his sheets, his pillow, leaving her scent behind and burning an imprint that that he pleaded he would see again.

_Wait… Beckett is in my bed! Still in my bed; still naked! She didn't sneak out during the night. But really, when did she have a chance between the frantic coupling, damned recounting of events/injuries, and the much more leisurely interlude that followed in the shower. Hot, wet, soapy Kate let me worship her body and kiss every bruise and then I made her moan - out loud - when I…_

_Woops, not the time to wake up my anatomy. Give the woman a rest, _he chided himself_. _He struggled to find another topic to distract himself._ Who am I kidding - nothing is going to distract me from Beckett - in my bed! Naked! Oh damn. _His carnal appetite was waking up.

Other anatomy was also waking. His stomach growled - loudly.

He quickly accessed her face for signs of rousing, but her unguarded peacefulness continued.

_Breakfast… I get to feed her breakfast! _Oh the gleeful possibilities burst forth: Pancakes! The edible thank you for a perfect night. But was it too cliché? Kate deserved special. Memorable… _Of course! _He seized on the perfect breakfast: a s'morelette - an unique breakfast in honor of their unforgettable union!

The master creator mentally verified the necessary ingredients were in house. He'd sizzle up some bacon first and let the smell lead her to the kitchen and then have the secret ingredients ready…

_Wait_… His befuddled mind registered something wrong with the plan. _What? Of course I'd make coffee; that's not it_. He let the words form an image: cooking bacon, Kate lured out of bed by the smell…

_Oh! She'd wake up alone! _Not good, Rick. There was no way in hell he was letting that crucial moment of wakefulness go unchecked. It would tell him if she had regrets, pain, or a delightful afterglow (or all of these) warring for dominance within this extraordinary woman.

Still, he needed to feed her. His eyes fell to his nightstand and the plan came together. Thankfully he had a moment of fatherly need to keep his phone close since Alexis was out all night partying. Slowly, carefully, he eased his body away from the center of the bed and reached out an arm to snag the device.

He took a second to verify the text messages from his daughter were all good and came at regular intervals knowing he would worry otherwise. The father smiled indulgently at the picture of the teen on top the lion outside the NY public library. _Hmmm, pictures… Just to prove to myself this was real and if it's not salacious… _Reluctantly he dismissed the thought. He left the goofy smile on his face as he opened his browser and placed an order from his favorite bakery for delivery. Their breakfast was going to be classic: Coffee and cherry-filled turnovers. His grin widened at the subtext and symbolism.

"Richard Castle, if you are even thinking about using that phone to take pictures of me in your bed I will hurt you!"

He almost dropped the phone, covered his ears, and whimpered, "apples..." Instead a smirk found courage to ghost across his lips. It was further proof her mind reading abilities were even stronger in bed…


	2. Moonbeams

He tossed down the rest of his bloody mary and gave the congressman a hearty backslap. The Senator left the exclusive gated country club, climbed into his bulletproof car and waved for his protection detail to drive him to his summer home. The distinguished gray haired gentleman ignored the appreciative looks from the tan 30 year olds in tennis whites.

He had an endless supply of women to satisfy his needs. He had wealth and power. What he didn't have was peace of mind. His thoughts had no compunction about the brutality of his antics with women, or the profits from tobacco, gambling, and firearms that now financed his lifestyle. Even the many murders he paid for through the years paled with the international power arena he now played in. He was occupied with destabilizing countries and possibly killing hundreds, if not thousands of nobodies. Still, this did not disturb him. His peace was marred only by a loose end. He didn't like loose ends. This one had gone on for years; protected by those beneath his notice. They presumed to deal with him, the dragon, and he was done with them - permanently.

As if his thoughts transformed reality, his phone rang and the unknown (burner) number appeared. "Update," came his gruff command.

"Smith is dead. It took quite a few hours of torture to get him to reveal both locations, but I have the files."

Maddox flashed back to moment when Smith broke: _"You are making this too hard on yourself. You will break. Everyone does." Blood dripped from the man's face. His fingers were broken and the kidney punches meant the old man's insides were screaming with pain. What was keeping this guy strong? He had no claim with Beckett and this had to be far beyond his debt to Montgomery. It was only when the clock in the hall chimed that the man let out a sigh and started talking._

At the time he couldn't stop to analyze the behavior. Now he wondered if the careful old geezer had a dead man's switch. Something like an offsite communication protocol he had to log into regularly or else a program would activate. His thoughts were pulled away from speculation and back to the phone call…

"Finally! What about copies?"

A slight pause betrayed uncertainty. "Documents at the house consisted of information copied from the originals he was using to build a profile on you. The originals were stored off site in a safe so I don't believe he trusted anybody else enough to make yet another set. If he did make triplicates and deposited a set with his papers in the bank's safety deposit box, we have a junior attorney in the law firm ready to intercept them. We are slowly paying off her college loans to keep her obedient."

The dragon snorted contempt but let it pass. Guarantees were rare. "How did it look?" He was always mindful of others listening to his end of the conversation. He kept his phrases sounding like politics as usual when it was really murder.

"High end robbery. The torture will seem like burglars wanting the combination to the safe. I planted extra cash and gathered jewels, his rare coin collection, and the firearms from the house which would have made a nice haul. I also sprinkled a few hairs I gathered from the night I spent in a homeless shelter and a bloody tissue from an ex con I mugged outside a bar. The evidence should be confusing enough to keep the inept Virginia police running in circles."

"No problems?"

Another hesitation. "My exit was hurried but clean. There was an unexpected visit from the home security company. Local PD arrived." Maddox wanted to reemphasize the job. "I got the files. Smith is dead."

"I want the rest of this mess tied up. How quick can you get back?"

"I'll be back in New York in about 6 hours. I'll finish her off then."

"No. I want a captive audience. Understand?" His door was opened and he stepped out on the custom drive inlaid with the ancient symbol for fire. He waited among the lush vegetation for his demon to understand.

This was an unexpected change from his previous instructions. Cole Maddox had to clarify, "You want me to kidnap her, not kill her?" Then he realized the endgame, "You're going to make her pay…"

* * *

_Same time; different cities and states…_

* * *

His hand was at her back.

Rick took every opportunity to touch his new lover as they stood around his kitchen, too buzzed by the hormones to settle into seats. Until he saw the first hint of her needing space, Castle let his needs run unchecked. He kissed her, caressed her with his eyes, and touched her with abandon. Very little else registered with the couple.

Every minute their phones dinged announcing a new text message. Even now Castle couldn't resist a puzzle, "I bet Lanie is going nuts wondering about you."

Kate licked the rest of the sticky fruit filling off her fingers and watched his eyes darken. Some things were slow to change so she feigned indifference to hide her own desire, "I bet Ryan is worse off. We've never left Kevin all alone before."

"Speaking of being alone, my daughter returns this afternoon." They were in the kitchen waiting for the 12 cup coffee maker to brew refills for the now empty bakery delivery. He wanted Beckett to _feel_ in control even though the illusion of a well ordered life was gone. Now was not the appropriate time for the character sketch that Kate teetered on the edge. A new chapter was beginning and Castle wanted to ease her into it. The master storyteller nudged her to write the script for today. "What are your plans for the day?"

One scorching look without ever uttering a word. Eye sex. That damned slant of her brow, the mesmerizing green orbs, and the come-hither look seized control of Rick's body. He crowded in to taste the tart cherry residue on her lips.

She pulled him closer and claimed his mouth with a little more force. Whether it was another endorphin release to keep the pain from getting to her or making good on her promise to herself, she had an agenda. Evidently it included him.

The coffee pot sputtered to a stop and another message arrived on their phones. Rick eased back, hoping to keep the subtext working, "Ready for another cup of energizing, hot steamy liquid?"

She purred, "I can't ever get enough - Rick." She rolled the R's and put a click on the end of his first name that instantly had him flashing back to the naughty Russian voice from the shower (_He vas a very dirrrty boy…_) "What about you - are you up for another round - of coffee?"

"Oh Kate…" The man no longer had to resist the pull of attraction from the woman he loved. His words disappeared - and once again her name fell from his lips before they trailed off to expressed his sentiment nonverbally.

Ever since the shower he was gentle around her injuries but insistent about expressing their mutual desires. Kate canted into his touch and let the purity of the moment wash over her. Hands roamed, lips caressed and bodies pressed into one another creating a palatable sizzle. They pulled apart as another pair of dings trounced the silence.

With a lingering caress Rick pulled back. "Maybe we should send out a few messages so no one worries about you."

"As you wish." She smirked at the stunned delight the movie reference caused. He stood, frozen, his mind whirling at the innuendo so Kate snatched both phones and glanced at the screens. "We each have a dozen messages." She pressed his phone into his hands and each tore their eyes away from the other to start scrolling through the texts.

NO!" they cried out in unison. This time the perfectly synced words weren't cute; the united anguish was the shattering of worlds - and lives.

"Still alive? Meet currier at Fortitude/noon or Post gets 32458 originals.

Still alive? Meet currier at Fortitude/noon or Post gets 32458 originals.

Still alive? Meet currier at Fortitude/noon or Post gets 32458 originals..."

She dropped the offending object that just shattered her happiness, her peace, her resolve to choose him. She backed away from the phone and turned away to grope for the coffee pot. Shaking hands over-filled the grandee sized cup and she stared helplessly at the river of liquid seeking lower ground. This mess was her making. Her life was a mess. A hot black mess.

The implications from the message in his phone staggered him just as badly. The writer's mind formed a million questions but his voiced rasped out only a syllable, "Kate?"

She was frozen. Her back was to him so he opted to pick up her phone and read her messages. At least it was better than his. Shaking off the trivial comparison he glanced at the clock. Twelve minutes after nine in the morning - getting to the meet was no problem. He wondered if she thought it was safe or a setup. Or was she even thinking yet?

He evaluated her reaction. The therapy must be working because her PTSD wasn't fully engulfing her. Her shock was muted but it was much better than an irrational fling into action. Castle needed to nudge her back to rational thought - back to being Beckett. With deliberate movements he tossed a wad of paper napkins on the large puddle of spilled coffee. Her hand absently started to sop it up and Rick placed his hand over hers, guided her, helped her. Then he turned her to face him. "Time constraints from my messages are more pressing. We will deal with this together, as partners. I've got your back, Kate."

She was lost, floundering, loosing control. And the Kate Beckett he knew was _always_ in control. Well, not really. The master story teller knew Nikki Heat was never in control. Her mother's murder had controlled her; and by extension, the captain and the rules of the NYPD controlled her. Jamison Rook was the opposite of control; he was freedom personified.

Involuntarily her hands radiated to Castle's solid form, one feeling the hidden strength of his bicep and the other caressing his jaw line. He wrapped an arm around her back and guided her raised hand to his lips where he ghosted a kiss to her pulse. He waited until her eyes cleared. When their unity rekindled their strength, he handed her his phone.

"Deal's over. Senator Bracken is the dragon. Beckett is in GRAVE danger."

Those 12 words spurned her back to life. She reached instinctively for her weapon and remembered her resignation. "Shit." Every instinctual action was tempered by a new reality. She finally knows the name of the man who murdered her mother.

He's almost killed her - twice. (Third time is the charm?)

She wasn't a cop anymore.

What kind of daughter was she? Kate gave up chasing her mother's murderer.

Detective Beckett gave up the vendetta for the dragon - for Rick. She promised him life over death. But now…? "Castle…?"

Her emotional baggage slowed the tactical evaluation of the situation. He helped, "We will deal with the noon meeting later. Right now you need to decide: fight or flight? If we're going to make a stand we need to prepare. If we're going to back off we need to grab and go. Which tactical option is best?"

Her eyes widened at the choice. _He was letting her choose to back into the fray? To fight Bracken and his henchmen head on? _As a private citizen she could call on the services of the NYPD except they weren't really a protection service and a police cruiser parked out front wasn't a sufficient deterrent to a trained assassin. Esposito was suspended and Gates was pissed and any goodwill was long gone when she walked out on her brothers in blue. There was no way in hell she was letting her millionaire lover cocoon her in a bubble of private security. The odds were against her.

That left his other alternative.

Beckett envisioned his flight scenario. _Hampton's? No, not far enough. A warm tropical paradise? Maybe New Zealand was enough distance to hide her safely. __**Hide**__ was such a repugnant word. _She tried to read Castle's mind.

Castle took a calming breath._ This is Beckett's call. It's not my decision. This is Beckett's call. It's not my decision. _He repeated it over and over hoping, praying that fleeing or confronting were the only options she weighed. He looked for miniscule signals of his deeper fear and hoped her ninja mind reading skills were off-line at the moment. He tried to narrow her focus, "Beckett, fight or flight? Which way do **we** play it?"

Her eyes widened in recognition… The deliberate use of the plural pronoun... He said "we." Whatever she decided, he claimed full responsibility as her… partner. He'd be at her side through it all unless… He was afraid she'd ditch him first.

Beckett's voice was a little shaky but she hoped the use of his name would calm them both, "Rick, I don't even have a weapon on me. My backup piece it at my apartment and it seems reckless to go there. I can barely move, much less fight. Where can I hide? I don't have any options, any choices, any hope unless you've got an armory or can transport me to that property on the moon..."

Rick Castle straightened and burst with relief. "Of course! I've got both. A **moon base **and a bolt-holt full of **weapons**. We just need to get out of here safely and then decide." He looked at her with complete confidence. "I've got this." He was moving and dragging her along behind him. She didn't filter the dubious look questioning the sanity of his words but movement, anything, was more natural than standing still. He pulled her into the office and quickly opened the safe. "Quick. Empty it. Here's a bag."

Her hand shot out for the Glock 17 and she instinctively checked the ammo and safety, then shoved it in her waistband, a familiar cold steel backing her up. With utter distain she reached for the next weapon: a purple revolver. (It felt real once she ignored the god awful color.) She groused to herself: _Who in the hell would buy such a thing - except Castle…_

"Hey, don't judge. It's the weapon of choice for aging divas. It's easy to load without chipping a manicured nail." His mind was whirling. It was still Beckett's call; he was just buying them time, giving her options (and just maybe he was making himself indispensable to her.) He reached in the vault and grabbed a few sets of keys and sorted through the 8 passports.

Eight passports?

Shrugging it off Beckett pulled out the final weapon: a stainless steel .25 with a pearl grip and laser sight. After the 3 boxes of ammo were in the bag she hesitated, unwilling to touch the last remaining item in the safe.

He deliberately nudged her as he grabbed a thumb drive from his computer, another from the smart board, and a few files from the desk.

Shaking off the fog that kept trying to envelop her, she broke apart the large block of $100 bills into smaller bricks that nestled better in the bag. So he had $12,000 in cash sitting around. She kept forgetting he was a millionaire and that's why he bought property on the moon.

He gave a last look around. "Leave the safe open. If they break in it will show tell them everything they need to know." He tugged her behind him, this time away from the office, but stopped as she tugged back at the loft door.

"Castle, we don't know what awaits me on the other side. What are you doing?" the remainder of the sentence "with me" left unspoken.

"Kate, every second counts. I'm a conspiracy and murder aficionado so I've imagined all kinds of hell awaiting us. All I want is to get us somewhere safe so we can make rational choices. Trust me that I can deliver on this. In one hour you will have your choice of weapons and safe destinations. Please?"

Her hesitation had nothing to do with trusting him and everything to do with loosing him. It needed to be said, but of course the real issue was too new to give voice. "Castle, I'll meet you. Tell me where."

"Kate, when we're together it always ends well. When we're apart, um, things… never mind. Now more than ever I am your partner. I've got your back."

She paused, evaluating as much as her battered body and emotions could in a split second. Everything had changed; nothing had changed.

She went through the door first, his hand at her back.


	3. Bolt-Hole

"Kevin Ryan… I must speak to Detective Ryan. It is a matter of life and death." The gray haired priest was demanding despite his advanced age and disadvantage body.

The uniformed officer clearly was torn. All the detectives on the 4th floor were in a pissy mood today, all grousing about the extra paperwork and not saying what was really tearing them up. None bore a more foul expression than Ryan. He made it very clear he wasn't to be interrupted for _any _reason. _But to defy a priest? Or defy a cop with a gun? Oh what the hell, maybe the clergyman could give last rites if Ryan shot him. _The cop motioned for the divine interpreter to follow and led him up and through the precinct maze to Ryan's desk.

The ice in Ryan's eyes defrosted a little when he saw the caller and the collar. He softened a fraction more with the hurried explanation the officer mumbled before scurrying off, "He said it was a matter of life and death and refused to speak to anyone but you."

The Irish detective manners were automatic. He jumped to his feet to shake the Father's hand, but then grimaced wondering if was condescending to stand over the man. The wheelchair that imprisoned the clergyman was as battered as the elder man's body. "Father, what can I do for you?"

"It is I who can do something for you." He shrewdly evaluated Kevin. "I am Father Ernesto."

"LT said something about a matter of life and death. You are in the business of saving souls; I am in the business of investigating deaths. If this is about saving a life I'm…"

"I am but an instrument to do God's work." He interrupted Kevin. "God's will can be a complicated to discern and man's rules don't make it easier. For example, what I hear in confession is sacred and cannot be shared - but every rule has exceptions."

"You can alert the authorities to immanent mortal danger."

"Yes."

Ryan waited for the man in black to calm his internal struggle. "Tell me what you can."

"Bare with an old man who listens more than talks." He waved his hands in supplication and received the first smile Ryan had given in days. "The church lets me find my own parishioners. I am blessed to be funded to serve those who protect humanity - namely military, police, and fire fighters. I understand what it like to see suffering and evil and try to remain good. I was a pilot during Viet Nam and was shot down. I spent the rest of the war imprisoned at the Hanoi Hilton. The body you see me in now is a result of the brutality of my captors and not because of ejecting at 10,000 feet as my aircraft exploded around me."

He waved off Ryan's mumbled consolations. He heard them all before. "The point is that I understand how easy it is to see a twisted body and to empathize with the trauma it endured. It is far more difficult to see a twisted mind, be sympathetic and know how to proceed. That has been my mission - my calling."

"I have heard many a deranged _mind_ confess awful sins. But I pay special attention for the damaged _souls_. There is one man who has been a force of darkness since the 1990's. He employs ruthless men and has flourished over time. His ill gotten gains are poured into evil enterprises and hidden in myriad financial mazes. His legions grow stronger despite opposition. One of his opponents is a second generation of battle. The mother was killed; the daughter was shot, but lived. Then a intermediary stepped in to still the avenger. The hunt for this interloper is underway. Once they know where he is, well… Mr. Michael Smith's life hangs in the balance. A man named Cole Maddox will kill him."

Ryan's eyes were wide with surprise. "How did you know to seek **me** out with this information?"

Father Ernesto nodded slowly. He liked that Ryan didn't mince words. "Because I also heard Roy Montgomery's last confession. I know _everything_."

* * *

_A/N In case this is confusing, the priest and Ryan don't know Smith is already dead. It just happened but in a different state (Virginia)_

* * *

Rick Castle was driving and Kate Beckett was a passenger. Lest that imply a monumental shift in the relationship, Rick had a plan on where to go and Beckett was watching for vehicles tailing them, her sweaty palm wrapped around the Glock held barely out of sight.

"Castle, it looks clear but…" her voice trailed off as he vehemently shook his head - quickly silencing her.

In a normal voice he continued her statement, "It's _clear_ now but it will rain again later today."

As he braked for traffic he pulled her close. Instead of a breathy whisper of endearment his voice barely gave the threat volume, "They might have GPS tracker or have the car bugged. Our adversary is well-financed."

Beckett struggled to stop thinking like a law abiding citizen (former cop) and start thinking like a woman marked for death. She recalled a homicide where an abusive husband found out his wife was leaving him when he snuck a transmitter through the fresh air duct in her car and listened to her plans. That guy wasn't a trained assassin and the outcome was just as deadly. "Yeah, maybe we could go for a walk in the park this morning. I've got no plans."

Rick brushed off her look of gratitude and kept up the pretense of a carefree life, "Oh, Kate. I definitely have plans for you."

"Castle!" He made her blush - despite everything.

At a red light he plucked her phone from her grasp and deliberately dropped it under her seat. She had to let go of anything that might tether her to her old life. She might be on an electronic leash and not even know it. He switched off the power to his phone.

Everything teetered on the brink. Everything felt like a test: follow or lead; together or separate; fight or flight? An entire new dilemma was ticking ever closer: go to the meet or stay away because it's a trap, and, if it's not a setup should she take control of the evidence or honor her promise to Castle - to herself- that she's done with it? Choose shit, hell or damnation? Beckett mourned the loss of her former life. Part of her finally understood the loss her father felt when his well-ordered life collapsed the day Johanna died.

The Ferrari zipped into the Plaza Hotel and he popped open his door even before the valet reached it. Castle handed him the keys and a folded bill that would definitely make the youngster remember him. Kate leveled an eye roll at her partner. He promised her options and she agreed to the Ferrari in case they needed a fast getaway. Instead Castle was making them very visible parading them around in a red sports car and flashing cash.

The millionaire playboy grabbed the small bag and pulled Kate to his side trying to camouflage the bulge the Glock made under her shirt. He guided her into the lobby and whispered what looked like another loving sentiment into her ear, "We're dropping breadcrumbs to keep the bad guys busy."

"At least we're leading him away from the loft." Castle might be willing to walk into danger but neither of them wanted to draw evil anywhere close to innocent redheads. Beckett was stoic as Castle checked them into a hotel room for an indefinite stay.

As soon as the room key was handed over they boarded the elevator, got out on the next floor up and walked back down the stairs and out onto the busy sidewalk.

They dipped into the nearest subway station and rapidly got some distance from their usual haunts. Both felt the rising tension, so Castle did what he does best: distract. "I prefer the term 'bolt-hole' instead of safe-house probably because Sherlock Holmes used the vernacular. The master detective," he paused at the inadvertent word choice but continued, "had small hideaways around London. They aided in his escape, provided disguises, or gave him refuge from an adversity. Too bad the modern connotation of 'bolt-hole' has survivalist implications."

Now they were in a taxi heading away from Manhattan. Beckett was thrumming with tension and Castle kept up his inane ramblings.

"…Not that there is anything wrong with survivalists, I prefer the mindset of preppers. I think 'bolt-hole' implies a small and utilitarian place, whereas 'safe-house' denotes all the creature comforts just in an out of the way location. Of course I am all for the comforts money can buy. But sacrifices must be made. Take ice cream for example. What quality of life does one have without ice cream? Stockpiling that kind of consumable in its natural form is way too difficult. Thank god for the space program and freeze dried ice cream. Did you know they have Neapolitan, double chocolate, mint chocolate chip, and cookies and cream?"

Beckett shot back in an annoyed voice (despite the normalcy of idiotic ramblings), "Is there going to be a test on this?"

"Many tests lay ahead, grasshopper."

Her roll of the eyes was expected but her tone was harsher than he liked. "Yes, master."

Okay, she was feeling trapped and part of that tension was snaking its way at him. He was making her dependent on him when he knew she needed control. The journey took 2 subway rides and another taxi ride as they doubled back around the block. "We're here."

She stopped scanning the street and glanced up at a non descript brick low rise in Brooklyn. Castle fished a set of keys out of the bag and used them to gain entrance to the front door. They passed through an lobby with a few worn plastic chairs but everything was tidy and the place smelled clean. There was no elevator and Castle held up 7 fingers letting her run the stairs while he took a measured pace.

The apartment complex was obviously old, but it seemed well maintained. A fleeting glimpse of a swings and a communal grill attested to the quiet family atmosphere. The burn in her legs felt good as she stood on the top floor waiting for Castle to ascend the last few treads. He nodded towards the end of the hall where a scuffed steel door bore the sign "No Admittance."

A few tries of various keys finally released the 3 locks and allowed the door to swing open. The boyish grin was the first Kate had since the damned messages destroyed their blissful morning. "Is this your secret lair, Castle?"

She brushed by him, making contract in all the right places. A battered desk and green metal file cabinets dominated the room. Over an extra long sofa was a map of the world - with Yugoslavia still in existence. One door stood open to a toilet and sink and the other door was marked 'Private.' A black trench coat was forgotten on a peg and a light dust showed the undisturbed nature of the room. By all appearances, this was an abandoned building manager's office. She turned back to Rick, waiting, unimpressed, jittery.

He lowered a reinforcing beam across the center of the door and entered a long code in an alarm keypad hidden behind a vintage "Uncle Sam Wants You" recruiting poster. A mischievous look still danced on his face. "It's the lair of someone you know well: Derrick Storm. My mother is the only other person who knows of its existence. She harps about cleaning it out and letting go of my past, so I may have released the eBooks about Derrick's new lease on life just to spite her."

An involuntary thrill at her fictitious hero's secret hideout distracted Kate. A shiver of anticipation coursed through her as she waited to see what was behind the second locked door.

The writer unlocked the "private" door and gallantly waved Kate into the space. A battered old wooden table and a collection of mismatched chairs predominated the kitchenette with nothing more than a very old microwave, toaster oven and coffee machine. Another couch, probably a sleeper sofa from the looks of it and a suspiciously comfortable looking recliner made up a small sitting area off to the side. A closet marked "pantry" and another labeled "cleaning supplies" was all the space had to offer. No more doors, no windows, nothing that distinguished this space from a thousand other employee break rooms.

Beckett was strangely disappointed. Snapping her thoughts back to more pressing matters, she groused about the chances of finding coffee grounds newer than the world map. She wondered if the need for caffeine was more physical or emotional. Her stimulant addiction aside, she felt better, more protected being here, at a fictional characters bolt-hole, than in the real world where larger than life dragons threatened to slay her. Nevertheless the stale air didn't bode well for fresh ideas.

He answered the unspoken accusation, "Appearances can be deceiving." Castle unlocked the cleaning closet and gave a small huff as he rolled the shelving out of the way and reached for the hazardous chemical placard. He pressed the red zone and a small click sounded. The back wall slipped aside revealing a very large gun vault.

Another key and numbered combination allowed the heavy door to swing open. Long range rifles, semi automatics and foreign military arms filled the voluminous space. Boxes of ammunition were stuffed in the remaining nooks. Kate literally gasp at the arsenal before her. Her fingers itched for the devastating reassurance of the blackened steel but she tore her eyes away to seek an explanation from Castle.

He was busy opening the panty to reveal its hidden treasure. Video surveillance gear, bug sweepers, cameras with telephoto lenses, night vision gear, walkie-talkies and old mobile phones. Theatrical makeup, instant hair dye and props. And money. Of course there was more money. He grabbed 2 of the burner phones and tore open the packages. He muttered more to himself than her as he plugged in the chargers. "These were bought at different times in various locations with cash. They should be untraceable." He reached for a few of the cards to add minutes to the phones until he could no longer ignore her gaze on him.

"You do like your gadgets and toys, Castle." Her grimace was fleeting. Didn't they promise no more secrets? Did this count? How much did the discomfort have to do with his days shadowing the CIA (that woman) and why was a faint nudge of jealousy compounding her raw emotions?

"Eh, so it started for Derrick Storm research." He gestured towards the guns. "I wanted realism for my the story so Derrick had to know the AK47 is lighter and has few parts than the M16. I bought them a very long time ago - all with cash." The man with the attention span of a 5 year old was staying focused on his task, and deliberately not looking at his partner.

He babbled on, "I own the whole building. I couldn't afford Manhattan prices back then, so I bought in Brooklyn. I've brought it up to code, but I never wanted to fix it up so that the rent drove out the original tenants."

"Castle…" Beckett interrupted and waited until she had his full attention. She gestured at the mini armory and tactical gear. She needed to hear the words. "Is this your way of telling me to fight back? Voiding my promise to you? Even though you know they'll try to kill me again?"

He said nothing. Nudged her on with silence.

"Yeah- I finally realized the odds are against me. I said I gave up the fight but…" Again she had a nagging feeling that the universe was testing her.

A fleeting slump of his shoulders was almost camouflaged as he moved away to the kitchen area. He opened a cupboard, shoved aside the military rations, beef jerky, and candy for the pile of filters and coffee. He rinsed out the pot and winced at the air bubbles in the water line. A sealed bottle of spring water was dumped into the reservoir and the grounds got shoved into the machine. He was running out of reasons not to face her.

He turned. Read her body language. "Kate, you said you didn't have a weapon; you said you didn't have options. I'm showing you that **we** have plenty of both." His voice was carefully neutral. What was deliberate was his use of pronouns.

She tried to lighten his burden knowing the coming words would be anything but. "Yes, lots of weapons. But I'm not as clear about options. I don't get a choice - Maddox is coming after **me**."

So many biting retorts sprang to the writer's mind. He took a deep breath, steadied his voice. "Yes he is coming after you but I'm your… partner, your backup. If you want to do this without me, just say so. All I ask is you don't sneak away in some misguided attempt to protect me. You're in charge, Beckett."

She narrowed her eyes and tried desperately to figure out what the hell was up. They were new lovers; he should be even more clingy, not less. She mentally searched her interrogation tactics for an effective countermeasure. "Castle, out with it. You want me to be honest with you; I need the same."

He squared his shoulders and threw down his gambit, "If you go off trying to fight this battle alone - without me - I will use any means necessary to protect you. Even if it means making a call to my mob connections and putting a bounty on Bracken's head."

"Castle!" Beckett was aghast at the unflinching coldness in his steel blue eyes and clenched jaw. "No, Rick! Promise me… Rick, please, don't ever…" Her hands waved and she floundered at the quagmire of devotion and crushing depths of the lengths he was willing to go to… for her.

"Okay," was all she could manage. Everything else was too much. Too raw, too new, too wrong, too crushing, too complicated…

"Okay?" He couldn't quite believe that was the end of it. He needed to test her, find out where her head was at. "Let me toss out some plot lines."

Instead of standing in front of the whiteboard at the precinct he grabbed a piece of chalk from the old fashioned blackboard. "Let's skip over the outcome where you make your last stand."

The sharp tap of the chalk testified to the emotion as he scribbled the words:

**Options**...**Results:**

Take out sniper…Dragon hires another assassin

Kill Bracken…Tarnish the fight for justice

Hide - Foreign country…Live life on the run

Beckett interrupted, "Castle, even if I run they could still track me."

"Not with the Canadian passport bearing your photo and an alias."

That helped explain the 8 passports she saw him grab. Regardless of his foresight, anger bristled at the presumption of his actions, the unlawful nature of it, and the sheer audacity of him hiding her away. He was treating her like some helpless schoolgirl. "No. simply no." She amended her refusal, "I won't leave the country. Maybe I should go back to my dad's cabin. I was safe there."

Castle added another entry "Options: Hide at cabin." Then he wrote "known location, too isolated."

Beckett's frustration broke loose. "Damn it! Do you expect me to stay here? 5 minutes with a computer and everything you own will pop up. It's no better than my dad's place and a lot fewer people are around to get hurt." She was a tightly coiled spring needing a release.

A faint look of something passed over his features. "No, I don't want you to stay here."

Beckett's last ounce of self-control snapped. "What's the matter? This is where you brought your Derrick Storm fan girls for quickies and you don't want Nikki Heat ruining the memories?"

Hurt flashed across his faced. anger dripped from his words like molten steel, "If you must know I used hotels for meaningless sex. This is the first time I've trusted any other human being enough to bring him or her here."

The honesty surprised Beckett and he didn't stop there.

The steel in his voice got stronger as he lost himself in the past: "The place was purchased when I set up a dummy corporation just so I could understand the process for one of my books. I hid here, alone, when my wife kicked me out after a fight. Then I used it because I stopped writing in bars and coffee shops; I used to be much more prolific back then." Castle paused at the unintentional dig at the amount of time he spent following Detective Beckett around.

He modulated his voice and toned down his emotions. "I kept the fake company and I moved ownership of the assets into offshore accounts since my divorce with Meredith was looming." The guilty look returned as he admitted, "Hiding the assets was unethical, but profitable. Anyway, this property, Tranquility-the moon base, the Hummer, and a few accounts are hidden by several layers of shell corporations. You would be perfectly safe here, but that's not why…"

Moon base? Hummer? Never mind.

"Shit. I'm sorry, Rick." She interrupted and started towards him but he waved her off.

He was still angry but it wasn't about him. His… partner was losing it and more than her life was on the brink. The ramifications forced him to stand firm. "I don't want you staying here because it's not the right move. If you disappear the dragon will snap his fingers, the mercenary will do his dirty work, and you would stand in Central Park naked at midnight if he told you to."

The surest way to make Beckett mad was tell her what she had to do. "There is no way in hell…"

The writer elaborated, "He would make you dance by snatching someone close to you. He's had months to study you. Based on your devotion to your _dead_ mother, the dragon can assume you'd go through hell for the _living_. He'd find a soft target and ask you to trade your life for someone like your…"

"Stop! Don't say it." Castle was right. She would gladly trade her life for her father's life, for Rick's, or (god forbid) for Alexis. Anyone of those individuals were much easier to kidnap.

Rick saw all this clearly and Kate was just catching up to the enormity of the situation. She wasn't a cop (anymore) and didn't have armed backup. Her loved ones were now in danger by association. She slumped into a plastic chair, closed her eyes, and sank under the quagmire of her life ensnaring those who dare to befriend her.

The words forced themselves up even as the former detective looked down, "They all said it, and they were right. This is so much bigger than I realized. I woke the dragon and I can't put him back to sleep. This is all my fault. I have no choice. I can't hide; I have to make a stand." _Last stand _was implied. Her voice was too soft for Beckett, too frail to stand a chance.

Rick deliberately stung her with his greatest weapon, his words, "Are you giving up? Quitting? Ready to join your mother?"

She bolted upright and stared hard. This was the moment everything teetered by the thinnest of threads. Their place in each other's life, their trust, their future, this was a test of their relationship. She read the resolve in his stance and a subtle shift in her own matched him. "What do _you_ suggest?"

"Fortitude." He waited for her to puzzle it out. Their relationship had to be equal. Yes, he'd followed her for years, but Kate Beckett didn't need a lackey and she didn't need coddled; she needed a partner.

Slowly the words revealed her understanding, "You don't think it's a setup because it came from the same source as the warning about the dragon?"

The message from her phone was burned into his memory: "Still alive? Meet currier Fortitude noon or let Post get 32458 originals.' Do you know how hot it is that you know where Fortitude is?"

She smirked at his readiness to see her as extraordinary. "Really? Every school kid takes a trip to the NY public library hears the tale of the two lions named Patience and Fortitude. I'm impressed you know what 32458 references." She was back on solid ground thanks to him.

He looked away quickly, but not fast enough. She owed him, so she didn't make a big deal out of him not making the connection. Maybe together, the living and the dead, they could pass the test. It felt like they got this part right. "32458 was Montgomery's badge number."

* * *

_Anybody know what Montgomery's badge number really was? I made this one up in tribute to Ruben - he left season 3, episode 24, with 58 shows to his credit._


	4. Fortitude

A mere 12 hours after she sat on the swings in a storm the rain again fell from the heavens. The wiper blades from the Hummer beat a steady tempo that meshed with the thrum of their heartbeats. Castle navigated into a spot a block away from the entrance to the main branch of the New York public library. Traffic was light so they still had a few extra minutes until high noon. They agreed on the plan during their transit, now the wait seemed like the hardest part. Unseen forces were playing out and the duo was in a holding pattern.

Castle's instinct was to crowd her, embrace her, express his support physically, but the past predicted she wanted space. Suddenly he was second guessing himself and hating that he kept giving her little choices to keep her from feeling like her life was spiraling out of control.

She cut off his mental gymnastics, "So, you couldn't _afford_ to park the Hummer in Manhattan that's why you used a garage in Brooklyn. Of course you were so embarrassed by that you registered it in an alias." She threw in an eye roll for full effect trying desperately to hide her reliance on 4 years of banter.

Castle rose to the bait and played his part, "Hey, it is part of my brilliant strategic plan to have transportation available once we're off the_ island _of Manhattan."

"How are _you_ getting off the island?" she teased. "Wait, you have an inflatable rubber dingy in storage…"

"Hey, that's a good idea! I am betting water taxis or ferry boats will still be working. I'll have you know this is well thought out plan." He was a little nervous to show her just how far he took things…

"Confess, Castle. You wanted a Hummer because they're butch. You invented a reason to own one by claiming to have a contingency plan in case of another 9/11."

He opted to keep it light. "Alright, you know me too well. Actually I bought a Hummer because we needed a vehicle with a lot of space for luggage when we go to the Hampton's, but their reputation is so environmentally unfriendly that Alexis refused to let us use it."

"Just how many suitcases do you pack compared to your teenage daughter or diva mother?"

"Now you're being mean, Beckett." He pretended to pout. "You try packing for an entire summer." His mind supplied an image of Kate on the beach, in a bikini, nothing else to wear. Her naked image was burned into his mind, the fantasies paled in comparison to the carnal bliss that was simply the best lover he'd ever had.

"Hey Rook, stop fantasizing. It's raining and we're in the middle of the city." The sultry low tone belied the message.

He leered at her. She was wearing the black trench coat from Derrick Storm's office to hide the bulge from the Glock and give her some cover from the cold gray elements. All he could see was a day when she wore nothing under the trench coat and he unfastened the buttons, one by one, exposing her lithe body for his pleasure. He'd…"

"Rick, it's time for me to go."

That snapped him back faster than if she'd slapped him for his erotic thoughts. _Please don't let her run; please don't let this be a setup; please don't let this push her over the edge_. He pleaded with the gods above silently, but his thoughts might have leaked out.

She answered with her lips on his. Kate poured every last ounce of reassurance into the exchange praying it was enough to carry them both through. Their castle, the fortress of their newfound love, was under siege.

Suddenly he regretted agreeing to be the get away driver in case she needed a quick exit. "Kate, I'll double park right out front and come with you."

"We don't have time to rehash this. You agreed. We both think the message came from Smith. As long as my cell phone transmissions aren't monitored, the gunman shouldn't be here. We've been too careful to be followed. Trust that this round goes to the good guys."

"Since when do you trust unseen forces?" ask the man about to lose contact with her for the first time since their coupling.

"Since I chose you." She leveled him with the emotions behind her eyes and gently shoved Rick back into the driver's seat. Kate left the warmth of his presence, his car, and glanced up into the gray skies. The raindrops threatened to morph her back into the confused woman sitting alone on a swing in a rainstorm. Each and every one of those pelts of cold water tested her resolve, her choice. She pulled Derrick Storm's coat around her and swiveled her head ever vigilant of the lurking evil.

A church bell began to toll as she reached the imposing steps of the depository of knowledge. The steady rain hurried all other pedestrians along. She jogged up; a lioness locked on the lion, willing the stone cold statue to reveal her fate. The monument dripped with clear liquid like blood falling from heaven of too many ghosts chained to the dragon's purgatory. So many souls were embroiled and Kate felt them watching this encounter. She stopped before the huge edifice and tore her eyes away from the empty blank stare of the animal frozen for all eternity.

Beckett scanned the area, alerting on the other lion, Patience. A guy, an employee from the looks of the badge, was fighting his own battle to smoke a cigarette despite the wet weather. He was hampered by one arm with a stranglehold on a flat white shipping box in a clear plastic bag. As the tone from the twelfth bell died away, the young man looked up and locked his gaze on Kate.

As he crossed the distance she scanned him for threats. His messenger bag was slung over a shoulder and was bulky enough to hide a weapon. Still, the gait and demeanor of this person was not of aggression, but perhaps agitation. She locked on his eyes and completed the assessment: despite the rivers of water snaking over his hair and down his face, the streaks of tears were still visible. Kate Beckett knew instantly she was looking into the soul of another walking wounded victim of the dragon.

Quickly she read the NYPL employee badge and found his name: Murray, Donald B. -son of the document clerk stabbed in the same pattern as Johanna Beckett.

His voice was quiet, broken and Kate barely heard the words. "I know you from the picture in the file. Hell, I know you better than I know myself. I've read everything about you. You were 19; I was only 14. You lost your mom; I lost my dad. Your father crawled into a bottle; my mother turned to drugs. You saved your father but I wasn't strong enough to save my mother. She overdosed on the second anniversary of his death. You know how hard those days are."

The carnage was so much greater than what appeared on paper. The guilt on his face wrenched her gut. She gave the kindred spirit what solace she could, "You were just a kid. You managed to shield your little sister from the worst of it and kept you guys together. Last time I checked up on you both, I noted she enlisted in the military and became a medic."

He nodded, soothed by her empathy. "I'm a documents clerk like my dad except he worked in the legal field and I work antiquities." His words trailed off. She already knew this stuff. "What you don't know is that Mr. Smith contacted me last summer..." Donny paused again, unsure how to express his regrets about how the detective spent last summer.

Beckett waved it off.

"Um, Like I said I'm a rare documents clerk. I restore old books and maintain the collection in an environmentally sealed, fireproof, secure room that makes bank vaults look sloppy by comparison." He stumbled trying to make his story relevant as they stood in the rain on the steps of a public library. "Anyway, this guy, Smith, laid out the gritty details and asked if I would keep the original police files. It seemed fitting that the records from the NYPD would end up at the NYPL to document the history of a public figure, a wolf in sheep's clothing. I dunno; it just appealed to me."

Kate smiled because it would appeal to Castle just as much. She didn't want to hurry the young man along, but she didn't want to stay exposed for much longer. She gave him a brief nod to continue.

"Yeah, so I not only stored them, but I made archival quality copies that are so close to the originals that a layman won't be able to tell the difference. Mr. Smith took the copies and I kept the Montgomery set in rare documents vault. He also sent me updates on stuff he gathered about this guy and his network. I even researched a few things on my own and put them in the files but Mr. Smith warned me - made me promise - that if he was killed the files went to you or the press, but to get them out of my possession."

"Smith is dead? How do you know?" Beckett wasn't surprised, but she was panicked at the implications.

Donny shoved the box unceremoniously into Kate's hands and dug into his wet jeans. He pulled out his cell phone and scrolled for the text. A fresh set of tears rolled down his face as he shared the news with his compatriot. "I'm joining your parents. Meet KB noon Fortitude or Post it. Stay strong…"

The final words from the latest victim of the dragon.

Kate felt a brief sting of her own heart. She needed a second to compose herself so she glanced at the address on the box. It was going to the Washington Post Newspaper. If precedent was any indication, their investigative reporters could take down a President so it was a reasonable gambit to let them have a try at a Senator.

She couldn't promise Donny which way she'd play her part, all she could do was release him from his role. "I've got this. My first goal is to keep anyone else from dying." _Including myself. _She cast about for a parting thought that wasn't a platitude. "Hey, you've…"

He cut her off. "I work in a library. You work with a writer. I'm a secondary character; you're the protagonist. Don't let the author pen a tragedy; I want an epic tale where the hero slays the dragon." With those parting words he ambled away.

Kate turned her eyes down to the street where her chariot awaited in the form of a black Hummer, driven by the prince disguised as a Jester. Her grip tightened on her sword, a box of papers able to cut a giant down to size, and she flew down the steps to begin her quest.


	5. Hunt or Hide

The past was prelude. It was as if the universe conspired to make this moment not just possible, but sublime. The rain eased to a light drizzle and some light teased through breaks in the clouds. The silver lining was that Rick Castle had a fortress, or, as described in another diatribe of words, "a self sufficient base camp good against all possible calamities." This ethereal place - "Tranquility Base, might as well be on the moon" was well stocked and well hidden. All that remained was getting there - all of them, in one piece, without being followed, and as quickly as possible. The white box of secrets was tossed in the back seat, unopened.

Castle was still in the driver's seat and Kate was in charge of protecting the innocents. Her current task was soothing their fear in as few words as possible and getting them moving. Beckett used a burner phone to call Alexis. Kate was nervously asking a high school graduate to drop everything by only using a few code words that Beckett didn't even fully understand. "Alexis, you're sure you understand? When we hang up take the battery out of your cell phone - don't just turn it off. You have to pay cash for the taxi. And you know where to meet us and what 'Tranquility' means?"

"Yes I know what it means; I named the place. I made dad promise to never send me away again while he knowingly faces something with deadly consequences. As long as you promise you are coming too, I will gladly forgo frivolous celebrations and choose to be with family in a time of peril. Please tell me you were able to contact Gram?"

Beckett was dumbfounded with the girl (no, she was a young woman) and her poise. The youth was supposed to be petulant and the older woman compliant. Nothing about her partner's clan was ever typical. "She's closer to the rendezvous than you are." She didn't tell the teen the only thing that convinced the business owner to give up this time between sessions was bluntly telling her she would be kidnapped and end up dead.

Alexis had one more concern to voice, "How widespread could this event be? Can Dr. Parish and detectives Ryan and Esposito join us?"

Kate hesitated at the unexpected query and the concern for these people over teenage chums. The former detective squirmed at Lanie and Ryan being left in the dark.

The red head pressed, "There's plenty of room. I know you've never been to Tranquility, but it's got a dozen sleeping pods. The more people we can protect the better. We will need doctors and law enforcement to survive this."

This sucked. Kate's world was ending and her black hole sucked the light out of anyone around her...

"Alexis, this isn't like when your dad sent you to the Hampton's because of a terrorist attempt to detonate a dirty bomb. This is because a very powerful man wants me dead and he'll use anyone I care about to accomplish that."

The silence was loud. "Alexis?"

"I'll meet you there. Tell my dad **I **love him." then the connection ended.

Beckett dipped her head to hide for a moment. Alexis didn't know about the change in their relationship. All the girl knew is that Detective Beckett was stringing her dad along for years…

"Kate?" Castle knew without seeing that the 2 greatest loves in his life were at odds. He suddenly regretted being the driver and unable to focus his full attention on reassuring the tentative connection with the mythical Diana beside him. "What is it?"

"Alexis sends her love."

"Kate…" Her name came out as a plea, a desperate sigh and deep need to solidify their bond.

"Rick, what the hell am I doing? I'm running to some high-tech hole in the ground? I have to hide your family to keep them unharmed? I have a box of secrets that killed Montgomery, kept me alive this past year, and just cost Smith his life? What kind of twisted shit is this?"

"It's truth stranger than fiction. All the lives, and the deaths, and all the secrets are going to collide. Like it or not, you and I are both warriors in this epic struggle between good and evil. We have to play our parts, Kate. I just thank God that I have some resources that will even the odds against this mythical dragon. He's just a man. A wealthy and powerful man, but a human being and we have a great history of putting bad men away. We've lost a few battles, but everything is transpiring to make winning the war possible."

Kate managed to forgo the eye roll at his optimism. She needed him. Finally she could admit it, even at the high cost of endangering his family, she wanted him. "So tell me how many more secret lairs you have Castle? Do you own a chalet on a mountain top that has beautiful vistas and fresh deep snow for skiing? No, wait, I bet you own a deserted tropical island you're going to conspire to maroon us on someday?"

"Mock me all you want Beckett. You know damn well I'd like to snuggle up with you by a fire and thaw you out after an exhilarating day on the slopes. I've also made no secret about wanting to see you in a bikini. But despite all that, what I really want is for us to be together - always." _Woops, that was supposed to be an inside thought and not verbalized._ He sought to distract her with other brutal truths.

His voice was deceptively soft, "We both lived through the chaos that was 9/11, but it wasn't until after I had to stand in front of a nuclear bomb that I realized how pitiful it was to send my daughter to the Hampton's - to a beach- for the **illusion** of safety. We averted an economic collapse called Pandora but my financial advisor has warned me of another bubble that is waiting to burst with derivatives. Competing for resources in a city of millions is not how I will look after my loved ones when I can make other provisions. How many warnings do I have to have before I take matters seriously? So whether it is bombs, radiation, anthrax or economic collapse, I want to do everything I can to protect the ones I love. So I built a bunker. I'm a doomsday prep-er. It's 2012 and I think the world just might end. Go ahead, laugh."

She wasn't laughing. It was sobering to see the world through the master of the macabre. Even more sobering was that his provisions included her and her father. She had no words. Castle was the wordsmith and she hated not being able to tell him - especially now that they were more. So much more. "My dad, he was humbled that you wanted him with us. He got all quiet on the phone and couldn't say much when I told him that you insisted he had to come. Not having the words seems to be a family failing." She battled against hiding her face beneath a convenient veil of hair.

"Not at all. I see it in your eyes. They really are the window to your soul."

Kate hoped so because she was giving him a look of utter gratitude - and more. She teased them back to normal, "Hey bud, eyes back on the road. Distracted drivers have accidents. This is why I shouldn't let you drive!"

"Drinking in the sight of you and driving can be an intoxicating mixture."

She squeezed his thigh and then lightly flicked his ear. "Enough Rookisms. Nikki Heat has to cage a fire breathing dragon."

The green orbs with flecks of deeper color, symbolized the deeper currents perfectly and suited the conundrum of Katherine Beckett. He forced his eyes back to the snarl of traffic and wet roads. "It sounds like you've got a plan forming." Rick breathed a small sigh. He had her back - back to being Beckett mentally even if she was masking her physical discomfort.

"Actually it's your idea. You said we were leaving breadcrumbs for Maddox to follow. Let's have our side do that to keep the hired gun busy. Meanwhile we can peruse the documents to see what kind of evidence Bracken left to trap himself."

Kate was done calling him the dragon. She had his name and maybe some proof of his deeds. And with a twist of fate, she was no longer an officer of the law so she could play by a different set of rules. It was time to gain the upper hand and maybe, just maybe she was finally in a position to deal out some karma. Diana, the fabled goddess, had found her mortal counterpart and it was time to go hunting.

* * *

"Kevin Ryan is a pussy."

That confirmed Beckett's worst fears. Her actions broke the partnership of the best team of detectives she ever had the privilege to work with. She had just a few minutes before Alexis or Jim arrived and they had to be on their way. Esposito was the one person from her cop family Beckett wanted to contract before she disappeared. "Javi, blame me, not Kevin. I should have never put you in that position. Your suspension is my fault."

The venom snaked through the airwaves, "Save your breath, Beckett. We went after an assassin who works for a man responsible for killing my captain and gunning you down. We were trying to do catch him despite knowing there are cops on the take and working for an ambitious woman who puts her own advancement over the greater good. Ryan is a wimp and sided with her; he sided with _Gates_… If my partner was with me then Maddox wouldn't have gotten the drop on me, you wouldn't have been fighting for your life on the roof without backup, and we wouldn't have gotten an undeserved ass chewing from a bureaucrat who's got penis envy so bad we have to call her 'sir.'"

Beckett stifled a chuckle and stayed focused. "Espo, this wasn't your fight. That's where I went wrong. I let it get personal." She needed him back to the guy who was an emotional rock.

"That's bullshit. This is damn personal. No disrespect to your mother, but I have my own stake in this fight. Do you want to know a secret? Montgomery sent me a note in the mail. It arrived the day after he died. All it said was 'I'm unworthy to ask for your forgiveness, but I will ask for something on behalf of another. You've always been like a brother to her; _act like one."_

_Shit…_

That made the bullet wound twinge. _No wonder Javier had blinders on. _He was trying to honor the dying words of Montgomery - the last request from a dead captain. There wasn't much Kate could offer but she tried, "Kevin is our brother-in-arms, too."

A snort. "Regardless of everything else, he didn't have my back. He made his choice - it wasn't with me. I wish I could resign like you. I've been in contact with a _true_ brother in arms from my days in special forces to see what other employment opportunities are out there."

Kate drew in a long sigh. Esposito wasn't being a rock; he was being as stubborn as a bolder damming a river. Beckett moved the conversation along. "Actually I was hoping you knew an old army buddy - somebody trustworthy and good at recon."

"I'm your man!" A spark was back in voice. "You're going after him and I want a piece of him, too."

"Slow down. I'm done running at this guy and getting my ass kicked. It's my turn to be invisible. My phone won't be with me and I won't be easy to find. I need a guy willing to put in some long hours doing surveillance on my place." It sounded like she was going into hiding and that wouldn't sit well with her former colleague.

She squeezed her eyes shut and tried to summarize the plan. "I want whoever this guy is running in circles and so pissed off at the trail of breadcrumbs he gets sloppy in his tradecraft: he doesn't know he's got a GPS tracker on his vehicle, a short burst listening device in his hotel and a video camera hidden at whatever public internet café he uses."

Javier Esposito's laughter was unexpected. "Hunt the hunter. Not the plan I would have thought of, but I like it! Castle must be rubbing off on you."

"You have no idea."


	6. Journey to the Moon

Droplets of precipitation left the park glowing with an intense shade of green. The sunlight ricochet off the leaves and the grass and the neon colors of the playground equipment and completed the effect of rainbow vomit. The contrast from the black Hummer was like a tank compared to the strollers gliding by. The bright yellow taxi dropped off the last passenger and the battle contingent was complete.

"I'm driving." The tone from the female brooked no argument.

"We can trade off later," Castle shot a quick look at the faces surrounding him. He needed to get them moving, get 5 adults in a vehicle so he could get Beckett to a safe place. "Who wants to ride shotgun?"

Jim Beckett spoke first, "I'm just along for the ride." He climbed in the back seat and managed to pull the heavy door shut with a soft click.

Kate wasn't in the mood to play games. She climbed in the monster vehicle and gave Castle a pointed stare to do the same. He made his choice: taking a backseat, the one behind the driver.

"Right, how chivalrous leaving the grand dame to ride up front! Thank you, dears." Martha waved a hand as if the production should commence and the players were now ready to act their parts.

Perhaps that's all it was: the start of a journey and not some symbolic shift of dynamics. Kate Beckett sat in the back seat flanked by the 2 men who loved her most. Alexis was driving.

* * *

The Hummer was too damn roomy. Rick wanted to have an excuse, any reason to be squashed up against Kate. He wanted the press of their thighs to burn from their body heat. He wanted to cant his body towards her and be able to let his nose find that enticing scent that was pure Beckett. He wished their long legs vied for space and their feet could tangle once again. But the Hummer was too damn big. Even with the box laying on the floorboards by Beckett, all three of the backseat passengers had plenty of room. Too much damn space.

Castle looked down at the snowy white box. It seemed so mundane yet held power- ultimate power on the scale of life and death - and perhaps proof of ultimate corruption. It was white- a unifying reflection of each color in the spectrum but the writer's mind traced the tangled lines of money and motives that simmered beneath the corrugated package. He was fascinated by it. The surface was unmarred by scuffs from the postal system and it laid so unobtrusively at Beckett's feet as if it knelt before its new master; it's last two owners dead. His hands itched to take the genie out of the bottle and he wondered how Kate could remain so calm. He stole a quick glance at the woman who this all centered around - the woman who's tenacity made the wicked tremble and the dead speak. It was her role to shine light on the shadows and make darkness flee. Well, it used to be. Now she was the one fleeing into the shadows. Anyone who loved her scurried along. Like bystanders before a shootout in the old wild west, no one wanted to caught in the crossfire.

Rick cast his mind back to a gunfight a year ago when he forcibly removed his partner from the massacre in the hanger. He walked away from her during the most recent scuffle with Maddox. He scanned her body seeking clues to how she was doing. A deeper shade of purple blossomed at her neck. She cradled her left side unconsciously. A crease of her forehead betrayed a headache. Castle plotted to force a pain reliever on her during the next stop.

A slight shake of her head snapped him back to reality. He had been staring at her and the box and she'd had enough. He shrugged an apology and started to reach into his pocket to pull out his phone for a distraction. Another slight shake stopped him. _Right. Batteries were pulled so they couldn't be tracked. _He was bored and fidgety and he longed for his new lover but her father sat just as close and Rick had no outlet for the buzz of emotions and the tangle of thoughts plaguing him.

Blandly he turned to the window and pretended to watch the passing scenery. The stillness inside the car contrasted too harshly with the fleeting cities. The quiet of the interior was blanketed by the hushed tones of his daughter trying not to sing to her radio station as she navigated towards the fortress of Tranquility they built for catastrophes. Perhaps fate was laughing at him since this particular scenario never entered his mind, but it was a hidden oasis of security and they all needed the respite.

It was the slightest of movements and the observer of human nature fought the urge to turn back towards the interior and watch for it again. Jim Beckett shifted in his seat and stretched his limbs, invading his daughter's leg room. Then he nudged a toe under the box and inched it closer to his side of the car. Kate nudged it back. Castle's head crept around by degrees and the charade continued.

The author watched in fascination at the battle of wills quietly occurring in the back seat. Both faces were inscrutable. If it were not for the faint marks on the snowy white package Rick would think he was imagining it. Again the man's shoe snaked it closer; again a boot heel pushed it back.

Jim shot a swift glance at him and Castle hoped the warning flashing in his eyes was received. Jim had no idea this game of footsies was over his wife's death, his daughter's life, and Rick's future harmony.

Kate planted her foot blocking the box's path towards Jim. Her father looked straight ahead silently contemplating his daughter's unspoken message. Castle was spellbound (and a little frightened at the possible fallout.) Jim resolutely stretched out his leg and surprised his daughter by pushing the package away from her blockade and towards Castle.

The woman let out huff and quickly repositioned her feet on top the box halting its movement. Jim let out his own exasperation aimed towards the other man who failed to follow through.

Castle squirmed. He let down senior Beckett but couldn't risk annoying badass Beckett. Still, he needed to distract Jim. Maybe if he told him the package was just book publicity? Maybe he could… A soft hand quieted his turmoil. Kate rested her hand lightly on his arm and Rick stilled. He tried to process the implied rules of this enigma. His ponderings were interrupted as the tug-of-war continued.

Tenacity must run in the family. The elder Beckett cocked his head sideways to better read the address on the express shipping label. The other Beckett planted a foot firmly in the center of the printed information, but Jim must have seen enough. With years of experience reading a Beckett's inner thought, Castle pegged the confusion at the role of the Washington Post. A few minutes of contemplation gave way to a small nod. Castle had the distinct impression the gesture was not uninformed.

Now Castle was the one confused. Nothing made sense. Kate was far too calm about her father's proximity to Johanna's case file. Her physical injuries and pounding headache had to be dulling her response. Castle would have to step in - run interference for her. Risk her wrath. The gray haired father and widower was too fragile to survive the harsh reality in these documents. This made him an alcoholic - he deserted his daughter turning to the bottle instead of his Katie. The parent became the child the and child stepped up to shoulder the responsibilities. Nevertheless, Rick wasn't sure he had the right to intrude. He scrambled for a way to resolve the skirmish.

Before any ideas struck, Jim's arm boldly reached out for the box. Kate softly pushed it away.

There was no way in hell Jim Beckett would choose to expose himself to any aspect of Johanna's murder. Yet every fiber of Castle's body screamed that James Beckett, lawyer, father of a NYPD detective, and man on the run, knew exactly what was in that box. The last time he saw Jim he was stepping between 2 men in love with his daughter as she lay bleeding from a sniper's bullet. The story-teller's mind filled in the blanks: Jim spent months nursing his daughter back to life. Evidently a lot had changed between them- or changed back to the way things were - a father protecting and nurturing his daughter. The debt was repaid; family bonds were restored. And it happened free from outside influences - free from boyfriends (Josh) and friends, and partners. _She healed without me..._

Now the two strong willed adults were engaged in a family dispute. Castle's whole being locked on the spectacle like a witness to a traffic accident too enraptured to turn away.

The snowy white box that had such a weight of darkness leaking through the seams lay quietly. Jim reached over and snagged his daughter's hand. He gave it squeeze and they sat there, hands joined, as another mile rolled by.

Slowly, with his other free hand, Jim reached down and picked up the box. Kate squeezed shut her eyes, blotting out the over whelming burdens. Jim merely set the box on his lap, kept hold of her hand, and gave her time to accept the inevitable.

Castle broke under the display and turned to look back out the window. His blurry vision had nothing to do with the speed of the vehicle and everything to do with the images his active imagination supplied. An adoring father wrapped around the finger of his precocious little girl. Unimaginable tragedy flips their world upside down and the child fights for her father's sobriety; she nursed her father back to the living. The karma comes full circle as he made her whole, restored her to the world of the living, once again giving her life. Now it seems he was determined to become her protector once again and share in the battle to keep her safe. Castle's face fell as he remembered his failures in that arena... The failure that made her father need to step back into the fray. Castle had let _both_ Becketts down.

A warm hand unclenched the heaviness settling around his heart. He looked down in surprise, then over at the woman he adored. She squeezed his hand, silently chastising him for his errant conclusions. He risked a glance at Jim and the box sitting on his lap. The older man resolutely held his gaze. So much passed between the two men. If a picture was worth a thousand words, then a look between men who loved Katherine Beckett would take years to share. Rick gave a single nod to Jim, silently pleading his all. Rick held on to Kate's hand, twining their fingers together and humbled by the magnitude of events.

Jim withdrew his hand from Kate and reached in his pocket withdrawing a small folding knife. He slit open the package and let the contents tumble free, an array of folders spilling into his lap. The Hummer sped towards the doomsday bunker driven by Alexis, and Rick and Kate were holding hands in the back seat while Jim sorted Montgomery's files. Pandora's box was open.


	7. Alien Landscapes

CHAPTER 7 -ALIEN LANDSCAPE

* * *

The elephant was in the room -or, in this case, the car.

The massive pachyderm was present because it never forgot - not because it was invisible. Jim Beckett paused at the NYPD file of his wife's murder, then solemnly passed it - unopened - to his daughter. With unparallel grace she accepted the burden. Another mile rolled by before the stillness was broken. She passed the folder - unopened - to Castle.

Rick bowed at the weight, the responsibly, the symbolism, the love, the trust, the _everything… _Jim Beckett gave his trademark single nod and moved on. He sorted through the remaining files, giving all those encased in NYPD jackets to Kate, a small collection of black folios to Rick, but kept a green notebook marked 'financials' for his own perusal.

Each file contained handwritten notes that distilled the salient points and repeatedly named a powerful man. The trio of conscripted investigators grimaced at the magnitude of their opponent. More questions than answers were unearthed. The brief overview was enough for now. The genie went back into the bottle (or box) and the heavy silence inside the car got louder. Inner shadows gave way under the bright glare of the sunny countryside.

Alexis gave up on finding a good radio station. Everyone took stock of the surroundings, the almost foreign setting they unexpectedly found themselves.

So many answers waited just down the road. Trivial concerns would play out: no one was allowed time to pack clothes. Knowing Castle, they had astronaut jumpsuits to wear. They'd probably eat freeze dried space food (although the ice cream was pretty neat.) If Kate thought the loft was a modern bat cave, then the 'moon base' was going to be off the charts. But first they had to get there. At this rate it wasn't going to be soon. With no GPS counting down the miles to the destination, the former control freak had no frame of reference. Castle didn't trust any electronics that might leave breadcrumbs. Beckett was fidgeting worse than Castle and Alexis was still behind the wheel.

The brunette woman searched for a way to question if they were lost without antagonizing anyone. This was the best she could do, "I thought the traffic in Manhattan went slow. This is excruciating."

The conveyance in front of them was moving a mere 15 miles per hour and evenly spaced traffic opposing lane crowded the country dirt road (really - a 2 lane dirt track complete with dust and grass - or weeds growing sporadically throughout the lanes.)

"It's still quieter than the city." Jim offered. "No horns blowing."

"Besides being rude, it would spook the animals," Alexis decreed.

The clopping sound ahead of them, occasionally on the other side of the road, and more some distance behind them was not exactly a peaceful cadence. It was sharper than beating of drums, mimicking a heavy tick of a clock, and grated on certain tell-tale hearts.

"I'm not sure the country smells better than the city." Martha observed. Even with the windows up to block out the dust, no one dared to suggest the air conditioner could do much with the 'farm fresh air' - the potent odors of animals, ammonia and manure.

The sameness of the landscape befuddled the urban dwellers. Red barns, green crops and those damn black buggies were everywhere. Castle took one look at Beckett and felt her frustrations. It had been hours of sporadic, inconsequential chatter during the drive across the state after a perusal of the white hot box. Nerves were frayed, stomachs growled, and patience was wearing thin. Rick tried to soothe, "Not much longer; we're almost there."

No way...

"Really, Castle? You built a **bunker **_- a self proclaimed moon base -_ in the middle of **Amish**country?" His sleek and ultra modern command center was going to stick out worse than Santa Claus in Saudi Arabia. Beckett was openly regretting leaving the city, not sending the rest of them out of the country and working from Derrick Storm's bolt-hole hideout.

Jim had the audacity to chuckle, "I'll have buttered popcorn while I watch Harrison Ford in Witness. Or should I just stake out the barn where we hide the car?"

Castle froze at the recollection of the seduction scene and Father Beckett's awareness of the sizzling chemistry between new lovers.

Alexis interrupted from the driver's seat. "The location was **my** idea. Dad wanted a mountain top retreat in the Pocono's but I disagreed. I convinced him that a community which didn't rely on electricity and was largely self sufficient was a perfect place to weather a catastrophic event. You know, something so widespread like a pandemic that we need to flee civilization."

Shit, so Kate just threw an unintentional jab at Alexis and the red head was lobbing it right back. "That does make a lot of sense." However lame the effort, Beckett knew it was up to her to make their enforced proximity work. She opted to diffuse tensions, family and sexual, with humor, "The real brilliance is knowing they've never read a single book by Richard Castle!"

"Hey," he seized the opportunity to play the jester, "The immortalized roles of a stage and screen legend was also a concern. Although every year that passes makes some people's celebrity status go way down." He shot a smirk towards his mother in the front seat who waved it off.

"Nice try, darling boy. I am looking to the future -not the past. I brought your unpublished screenplays with me so I could rework them into suitable material for my students - a grand production of original work worthy of the Martha Rodgers school of acting."

Castle sputtered about unauthorized use of copyrighted material, but no one missed the happy tone in his mutterings.

Alexis immediately jumped back in to justify her choice of location. "It's within reasonable driving distance, the land was cheap and we hired a couple to run an organic farm. Dad can't risk being recognized so I manage everything. I've been here quite a few times, but we were both hoping to sneak away to it this summer. Maybe since I'm going to Columbia University we should go ahead and buy horses because I can get away to ride on the weekends. But first I need to get the stables updated. They are filled with antique farm equipment and I need to meet with manager to find out what can be auctioned off."

"My little girl has become quite the entrepreneur."

It was a far cry from selling lemonade by the glass or babysitting for spending money. Kate let herself be distracted by the relationship between this father and daughter. Castle found a project for them to share, nurtured her vision no matter how different from his own, and then trusted her to make the most of it, learning from the setbacks and successes. Kate was going to invade this dynamic with enough baggage to set off an avalanche. Beckett vowed to herself to tread lightly.

The redhead turned off the back country road and through a wrought iron gate. A produce barn flanked one side of the entrance, but Alexis pulled over to the other side where a farm market had a few people milling around. She put down the window and called out to a woman her own age wearing an apron proclaiming "Knight Farms" and featured a white crescent moon. "Hi Hannah! I'm touring the farm with some investors. Could you put together a plate of deli sandwiches, and something that showcases our organic foods and fresh produce?"

"Sure, Alisha. I'll have Sal run it up to the main house as soon as it's ready." With a friendly wave she turned back to the customer and the Hummer purred up the long drive to the homestead.

"I should explain," Alexis half turned to the occupants of the car. "The locals know me as Alisha Black. They think I'm an environmentalist since we've gone all-natural with solar panels on the house and wind turbines by the barns. Hannah manages the land and produce. Sally- her partner- does maintenance and cares for the livestock. She's pretty butch for these parts so Hannah deals with the public."

"Should the rest of us use aliases?" Martha perked up at the possibility of improv.

"Yes, mother, you are Alisha's grandmother so you're Maryanne Black." Castle reached behind him to pull out the messenger bag from this morning. He sorted through the passports and handed them out. Jim took his with utter surprise.

What the hell?

Kate was stunned into silence. Her face was on a _Canadian _passport... Her (boyfriend?) lover of less than 24 hours just handed her father a similar document. _When_ had he done this? She could guess the why, but it unsettled her. She wasn't sure how many more surprises her man of mystery could spring on her before she melted into a bewildered mess. He promised her options; but really, he was laying the world at her feet. He was giving her a new lease on life. He was over the top and unpredictable and he was… _everything._

Jim analyzed it all, settling on bemused after the detailed glance at his and Kate's fake names. Their last names were different from each other's. They processed the meaning and both Becketts leveled a glare at Castle.

Jim adopted an intimidating look, "She's Kathy Black and I'm John White? You married my daughter without asking me first?"

"NO! Last night was… I mean she doesn't even know I want to…" Rick Castle stuttered, squirmed and then sank beneath the Beckett duo. "Um, what I mean is that for travel purposes it made our group less conspicuous. The first names are close to the real ones and the last names are generic to make us harder to track." His voice trailed off and he wanted to crawl under the seat. Kate Beckett learned her glare from her father. Jim's eyes betrayed merriment, but Castle wasn't sure if he'd overstepped. He avoided the other Beckett…

Kate bit her lip and quietly enjoyed the squirming, the proof of his desires which had to happen long before their recent coupling. She loved her father's fake outrage especially considering the circumstances - proof of how much strength the men around her wielded.

Martha interrupted the moment. "It could have been worse, Jim." She turned to watch his reaction to her teasing, "He could have pawned me off on you and made me Mrs. White."


	8. Tranquility Base

CHAPTER 8 -Tranquility Base

* * *

The Amish were known for fine craftsmanship and primitive style of living. Kate was betting something like an Adirondack palace of logs with warm wooden hues and soaring timbers was waiting just beyond the apple orchard. They cleared the last grove of trees and beheld their new home for the indefinite future: a modest 100 year old stone house.

Alexis was gushing, "I love the history of the house. It was built by one of the first settlers in the valley and it was handed down through the generations. It sat empty after the last member of the family died because it was woefully out of date and in need of modern upgrades. It's like it was sitting here waiting for us to adopt it!"

The small one-story structure was as gray and bleak as a moonscape. A million small round stones had been mortared together to form a dwelling that looked every bit as old as the history it claimed. It had pretty arches and abundant windows, but all Kate saw were the foot thick walls and heaps of rock waiting to bury an unsuspecting visitor. They stood and stretched and welcomed being out of the big black SUV.

Castle echoed his daughter's enthusiasm. "Some of the foundation boulders have carvings on them, each window has rocks with fossils along the sill, and we imported stones from around the world to replace voids where the walls lost its grip. It is like a treasure hunt to go around the house trying to find the foreign imports."

Martha teased her son, "Tell me you used fool's gold and I'll believe the treasure part. It looks like you couldn't afford a castle so you bought the gatekeeper's cottage."

"No, I spent a small fortune upgrading it, but Alexis and I agreed that the character of the house should remain unchanged from the outside."

"Then how do you explain that?" Jim teased and pointed to the obvious addition of a sunroom topped with solar panels.

"Ah well, that is my fault. Between the solar panels and the turbines," Rick pointed to the barns and other buildings with the modern version of a windmill and continued, "we are pretty self sufficient with electrical power. As you've seen, we also can be self reliant with our food supply." Castle turned to find his partner who was uncharacteristically quiet.

It reminded Beckett of a prison, but she schooled her features and distracted her man-child. "Food and shelter are a start, but what about essential fluids?"

Alexis misunderstood, "Of course we have our own well, a sealed tank of purified water, and a natural spring that feeds into the trout pond." She pointed out an idyllic stream that meandered to a small lake by a kitchen garden and state-of-the-art greenhouse.

Rick smirked at Kate, "Yes, the coffee maker and grinder were upgraded, and our special blend is in stock. If you would step inside…"

If felt as if the weary travelers were stepping back in time; at least stepping back from those who would do harm. The simple furnishings and neutral tones soothed the unexpected guests. The thick walls hushed the outside world and cooled the summer sun. Wide pine boards bore witness to a hundred years of scuffling feet and became a sturdy and safe path that beckoned them into a surprisingly bright kitchen.

A large plank table with a dozen chairs dominated the space. Copper pans glistened and colorful pottery adorned the open shelves. The focal point was a tile mosaic with a huge green appliance set below a vent. It looked like an old-fashioned oven on steroids with bulging cast iron doors. Kate blurted out. "You have an Aga!"

In spite of herself Alexis was impressed. "You know about Agas?"

"What-a's?" Castle questioned. Clearly he signed the checks and let Alexis have free reign.

Kate answered them both: "An Aga is a cast iron cooker with multiple ovens that are always heated and ready to use. I discovered them during the semester I spent abroad."

Alexis beamed. "Because of the thermodynamic energy of the house this seemed like a perfect fit! It was the one item I imported. All the other furnishings and products are from regional craftsmen or purchased locally." She waved her hand beyond the room and everyone took in the sturdy wood furniture made by hand and subdued decorations indigenous to the area. The girl's warm personality reflected in the home.

Kate offered her validation, "I can see why you named this place Tranquility. It's very snug."

"Thanks but Tranquility Base is really downstairs. I take no responsibility for the content down below." She shot a disapproving stare at her father. "It's more Ikea than Aga."

Castle lit up. "My turn!" He ushered the group into the addition, through the summer room and herded them into a small room filled with a furnace, water heater and other unusual appliances. Racks of batteries filled one wall and machines monitored air purity and water quality, weather, voltage usage, electrical generation, and much more.

He went over to a towering machine full of screens and displays and tapped in a code. A soft hiss released the metal side and the heavy panel swung open revealing a steep stairway reaching into the depths below.

"Ladies and gentleman, the gateway to Tranquility Base." His grin split his face and infected every member of the small party.

Beckett teased because she really didn't know what else to make of this. "You have property on the moon but you built a bunker here to try out your design? I'd say you're over the moon - as in goofy."

"If it is goofy you want, watch this!" He flipped a lever and the stair treads reoriented from right angles into a smooth slide. He tried to justify, "It's quick if we need to get below in a hurry and it made getting all the gear below deck much easier." He was nudging Kate to take the leap of faith, in all things, and jump into the unknown. Yet it was merely an extension of what they'd done all day.

Martha balked. "There is no way I'm going down that - in this." She smoothed her fuchsia gown and eased to the back of the group. "I'll wait up here for the food delivery."

Rick looked so crestfallen his lover hurried to restore his boyish enthusiasm. "I'll take the plunge." Kate sat at the edge and shoved off before she could over think her words or actions. A whoosh of air from her lungs at the top was punctuated by a faint sound echoing up from the bottom.

Was that a giggle?

The childlike act of sliding down the shoot calmed her survival instincts. She met the cool, soft light of a tunnel with interest. Hard proof of the kind of man she'd fallen for was all encompassing. The darkness threatened but his lightness protected them.

"Fore!" The golf warning bounced down the hatch moments before Jim Beckett came sliding to a stop at his daughter's feet. The matching grins suited the pair and was reflected on the other father/daughter duo that came sliding down together moments later.

Kate reached over and pulled her man child up. He was searching her face for clues, uncertain whether proof of his outlandish life should have been left imaginary. She answered the unspoken query, "Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore."

Castle grinned. "Don't call me Toto; I'm the wizard! Since you've peeked behind the curtain, let me show you around." Rick tightened his grip on her hand when she tried to tug it back to her side. He pulled her over and the other 3 followed. They were standing in a main junction and the darkness swallowed views of any distance. "The lights are low voltage LED, motion sensitive, that stay on for 15 minutes after movement has stopped. Everything is designed to conserve power. Tap the illumination panel to override the shutoff." A blinking white square was mounted on a conduit. Jim surprised everyone by coming forward and touched the surface. The device became a steady white light, a small beacon holding back the blackness.

Castle continued the orientation, "The layout is a hexagon with crossovers to get to the other side. Every other junction has an access to ground level. We came down at the one from the house, so that direction lets you pop up through the root cellar under the barn and the other direction takes you to the greenhouse access. All around the tunnels are pods which are old shipping containers. Some are living quarters and the rest are doomsday supplies."

The redhead chimed in, "We even have an emergency medicine unit. I was hoping to get Dr. Parish's opinion on it and see what additions or modification need to be made."

Kate ignored the end-of-world scenarios. Worse than Alice in a Wonderland, Beckett felt a little lost, maybe like an invader who stumbled into a secret the father/daughter team didn't want shared. Kind of like finding out Castle had a CIA muse, finding out she was second. She shook off her thoughts. "Rick, when did you do all this? Never mind, you told me." It's just that they were always together. When did he have time to build a bunker? Was this more proof of his ability to keep secrets? Her eyes stopped roaming and she stilled. "What I mean is **how** did you do all this?" She shook her head in bewilderment. It was an honest-to-god underground fully stocked doomsday bunker. The ultramodern, monochromatic facility with sterile air and purified water was a harsh contrast with the design above. Unwelcome proof of how little she understood him.

"This is coal mining country so used tunnel boring machines are easy to lease. I knew a guy who acted as an intermediary. They brought it in and started boring where the greenhouse now stands. It made the circuit and then cut the crossovers and alcoves for the steel pods. The machine leaves the surface undisturbed and puts the concrete segments in place as it goes. It ran around underground and no one really knew what was going on. Connecting to the root cellar was the trickiest part and they had to hand dig that part. I didn't want to risk the vibrations disturbing the house so that's the real reason the sunroom got added. I admit my little survival pod grew into an elaborate complex but compared to mining operations this was small and quick." He stopped spewing information. He felt Beckett's incredulous reaction to his lifestyle. He want to be more than a spoiled millionaire who could indulge in murder investigations as a whim and build moon bases hiding behind doomsday scenarios.

Desperately he searched for a distraction. "Hey! Come see the rock from outer space!"

"Castle, aren't owning moon rocks illegal? Don't make me arrest you - I mean report you."

He smirked. "You know what they say about assumptions. I said it was from space -not the moon." He rushed over to the corrugated steel unit marked Command Center. The room was dominated by a sleek black table, but on prominent display was a curvy black rock the size of a fist. "It's from an asteroid!"

He picked up the specimen and handed it to Jim who blurted out the usual reaction, "Wow, it's heavier than it looks."

The gray haired man glanced around as he handed the artifact back. "This is all very amazing."

Rick Castle shrugged - disguised how important it was that Jim approve and instead confessed, "It's an occupational hazard. I can see horrible outcomes in any story."

Jim replied to Rick even though he only looked at Kate. "It makes more sense then becoming an alcoholic. You channel the darkness into positive outlets. You help out the 12th precinct, giving your time far beyond what is necessary for research. You stand beside Katie in her personal crusade despite the danger and heartache. I'd bet the size of this place reflects someone with a huge heart who couldn't bear the thought of turning anyone away if it were every needed."

"Exactly!" Alexis enthused. "My dad has a big heart. I thought we'd be fine with a log cabin."

Jim chucked. "This place sure makes my cabin in the woods look like amateur hour!"

_Damn. _The last thing Castle wanted was to get into a "mine is bigger and better contest" with Kate's father. He risked a glance at his girlfriend - ah, partner. She was still gasping in surprise at her father's admission.

Kate faced these other strong characters in her life and death drama and took a deep breath. Alexis needed to know. Rick deserved to hear it. She made a pact with her father last summer. She struggled to form the words, searched for the right tone, edited her thoughts…

A voice interrupted from above, "Food's here."


	9. What Would Jesus Do?

Chapter 9 What Would Jesus Do?

* * *

They were in God's country; surrounded by plain people with other-worldly devotion to their creator, and it predicated the question: "What would Jesus do?"

Well, what should they do? Each individual assumed his/her inclination about what Kate should (or shouldn't) do was best. Alexis's view was unclouded; Martha knew what was best. They all finished their meal, finalized their inner thoughts, and waited to share their insights.

Castle pushed back from the bounty of the table and looked at the faces surrounding him. It was time. He orchestrated every move that lead them to this moment, and he was the glue that held this group from unraveling. Privately he wondered what Montgomery would do. "Right. You all know what this is about so Beckett and I need to talk - privately."

A slim finger raised to stopped any potential movement. "Actually, Rick, I'd like everyone's input. This affects us all and for that I am so very sorry." Kate paused. What more could she say? Richard Castle was the wordsmith, but Beckett was a creature of evolution. She changed when her mother was murdered; she changed when that case sucked her in a quagmire of obsession. She changed when she was shot. she changed when she hung on for dear life off the side of a building - finally understanding what was 'dear' about the life she had.

She needed to demonstrate her evolution. "I resigned from the NYPD and I resolved to walk away from any further investigation into my Mom's death. Obviously I should have made this choice sooner, but I can't undo the past." That was a hard lesson to learn. She shrugged. "I've been marked for death. What should I do?"

What did it imply when no blanched that Beckett was in the crosshairs, but that the other 3 people gasped when admitted she quit the NYPD?

The redhead knew exactly what Lanie would say, and youth gave the teenager courage to blurt out: "You need to go away!"

The adults hid their shock but Alexis was quick to explain the impetuous of her words, "I mean we have to protect you from letting it happen again and the only way to do that it to get you far away." She leaned into the table as if to urge her words onward.

Martha and Rick started to reply but Kate cut them off. "Thank you for your honesty."

"No," Alexis saw the way her words were taken. "I mean you AND dad need to ride off into the sunset together. I'm not asking him to choose between us." She shook her head, not quite sure how that choice would play out. Regardless, she'd loose her playful, loving father if Beckett died or went away without him. "I'm leaving the nest and really the timing works out. You -both, need to go - away."

Martha agreed, "Yes, don't waste another minute looking to the past. Sail off into the sunset and be done with it." The actress waved her hand and was ready to move on to the next scene.

"Not so easy, Mother. If they can't get their hands on Kate they'll take anyone close to her until she gives herself up." Castle hated tying together the future of these women, but it was a harsh reality.

The matriarch again waved it off. All those years playing parts let her live a thousand different lives and she brought that experience out for the benefit of this small audience. What would a Tony nominated actress do? "A fake scene played out in public that seemingly breaks up our happy family will suffice. Alexis can change her name and sneak off to college at Oxford. We must play our parts, but really, what other choice is there? It isn't a fair fight; Kate can't win. She needs to run."

Talking about Kate's future - talking about Kate without any regard to her feelings and her hard won expertise was just wrong. Jim countered the subtle prodding, "I'm sure the publicity would be great for acting schools and book sales, but let's hear what Kate and Rick want."

Trying to juggle needs between the characters was Castle's first priority. "Mother is right that this isn't a fair fight, but who says we have to fight fair? I can be pretty twisted in my thinking. We can work together and figure out a way to cut down this heartless psychopath. I'll show him the fury of a heated storm." His eyes searched the others desperately seeking a miracle. He stilled at the look on _her_ face. _What did I say?_

Kate's voice was very quiet. "Is that what you think I want to hear or you think that is the best course of action?" She faced Castle and continued, "Be honest, Rick. You brought me here; you didn't let me stay in the city. Your actions say flight; your words say fight. Which is it?"

He echoed her words from yesterday, "I just want you. What's best… ." His voice trailed off. This should be Kate's choice. Spending the rest of their lives on the run, looking over their shoulders, was no way to live. Yet it was better than no life at all, or those fates worse than death. The writer's mind flashed to all those things he'd edited out of his books: torture or rape or coma or abduction or never knowing whether she was alive or dead. There was no good option; there was no happy ever after. The best Rick hoped for was a unanimous decision, "Mr. Beckett, what do you want Kate to do?"

All heads turned to the husband who lost his wife, man who lost his sobriety, and father who almost lost his daughter. Slowly the words came out, "It's not for me to tell you what to do; only to say I will support whatever decision you make in whatever way possible." He had the saddest look on his face.

Kate turned from Rick and faced her father. These noncommittal words were at odds with the same man who _insisted_ on opening the box of files. "Dad, talk to me. We made our pact last summer finally to share with each other. I'm holding you to that right now."

A sigh escaped, "What does it matter what I want? Does it make any difference I want the love of my life back in my arms and my lovely daughter unscarred by tragedy? Are you really asking whether facing assassins or hiding in shadows is my preference for my baby girl's future? What would I do? I'd ask different questions. What choice do we have, or how many people, how many families does this bastard get to tear apart?"

Rick searched the other man's eyes. These weren't the ramblings of a broken man.

"He's paid for 8 murders." Castle tallied the dead, "Johanna, a colleague, a law student, and a document clerk. 3 cops, and a prison guard."

"He's indirectly responsible for several more deaths," Beckett answered. "Coonan, Lockwood's girlfriend and the 2 henchmen with him when Captain Montgomery was killed. Mr. Smith was just murdered. There was probably an intermediary used to find out information about Smith and whoever that was is going to be killed to tie up loose ends." Kate stopped and waited for her father to make his point. (Attorneys could be so circumspect.)

Jim voice was husky. "I reviewed the financial data collected on this guy. Most of it is a murky trail that needs a lot more research but some of it was painfully clear. We want answers? Here's a question with an answer: How much did it cost to kill my Jo?"

He rose quietly from his chair and let the heavy silence hang for a beat. "Quite a bargain at $60,000. Another $60,000 to end a law students life. Same for the document clerk Murray. That payment was made 6 times back then. It seems like such a minor amount of money to end a life. Maybe because he had more cops on the take and the risk of getting caught was lower." Everyone stared at the not so invisible weight that slumped his shoulders.

After a few seconds he steeled his spine and forced the facts out, "The price went up to 100 grand paid to a sniper named Lockwood. It's gone on for years - payouts to Coonan, Lockwood, and recent ones to an account for a killer named Maddox. Dozens of hearts have stopped beating because of what he wanted."

Jim paused to let the facts have weight. "Beyond the contract killings there are financial payouts for unspecified acts. You want hard numbers? There are hundreds of thousands of dollars of influence out there. He has millions flowing in and out of these hidden accounts. Where does it come from and where else is it going? How much power does he wield and what price are the rest of us willing to pay to stop it?"

He broke off eye contact with Alexis and Martha as he sank down on a chair and stared down the abyss. "I often wonder what Johanna would tell me to do?" His hands flopped helplessly in his lap. "Then I recall she was putting her professional life on the line by looking into the getting freedom for a thug who was far from innocent. A lowlife accused of killing an FBI agent would put her at odds with law enforcement. Still, risking your professional reputation is nothing compared with betting your daughter's life on good triumphing over evil. Because the carnage from this demon is daunting. The anguish is so far reaching it has touched every person in this room."

Jim raised his haggard features to stare at his baby girl. "He was going to pay $250,000 for your death, but since you lived only the front half was wired. I guess killing a cop at an NYPD captain's funeral was expensive." He shook his head, "A quarter of a million dollars for my daughter, a mere $60,000 for my wife, but neither of those is the amount that haunts me."

The stillness was cocooned inside the thick rock walls.

He rasped out the next part, "There was a special payment highlighted from his early days. It was only for $25,000." He made eye contract with every person seated around the table. Every person had a piece of their heart at stake, but there was more.

Jim was barely holding it together, "Why so little? Because the target was little. The notation said "hit and run - 8 years old. He put a hit out on a kid."

"What the hell?"

God damn it!"

"Why would someone want to hurt a kid?" Alexis demanded an answer to the outrage everyone felt.

"A snippet from a newspaper supplied the details. A little girl was riding her bike on the sidewalk and a car swerved off the road and injured her. The police found the car abandoned and the smell of alcohol made them attribute it to drunk driving." Both Becketts huffed in annoyance at the sloppy police work. "The girl, Molly Jane, was the child of a political rival. The resulting injuries made the other candidate drop out of the primary to focus on the health of the little one."

The horror swirled in unseen eddies and the evil peeked out from the shadows waiting for the verdict.

Jim closed his eyes but pushed ahead with the questions haunting him: "If not us, who; if not now, when? How many more if we walk away?"

Choice? There was no choice.


	10. Esposito Takes Command

"Ryan is leaving me messages about what is going on even though I refuse to talk to him."

Castle resisted the urge to try to fix his broken extended family. Keeping Kevin in the dark cut down on the avenues that led back to Beckett. A long sigh was the only hint.

Esposito ignored it, "So Ryan was all kinds of pissed that Beckett's place was tossed. Wanted me to watch over it. Doesn't he realize it's too late now? Anyway, his message said there was minor damage and her computer was taken."

Castle forced himself to stay focused. "Good. Maddox is trying to draw her out. He's starting to get frustrated he will be watching her place, the Plaza, or the Ferrari. It will give us an opportunity to start tracking him. Obviously he knows your face and I can't risk you two crossing paths. You need reinforcements - more than just your buddy. Are you still willing to moonlight as a PI - Private Investigator - during this month while you're suspended?"

Javi snorted. It wasn't worth dignifying with an answer and he didn't want to admit he appreciated the hefty wad of cash for "per diem expenses" Castle sent with the burner phone. Now he had command of a small army of people.

The latest package contained more than a dozen photos of actors from the Rodgers School of Theatre who were waiting for "roles" to be assigned. 2 of the men had obvious uses even though Espoito teased the writer, "Hey dude, if 2 of those guys are supposed to look like you then you got younger and bulked up."

The best selling author countered the jab. "I know they don't have my rugged good looks, but we had to go for height as a primary consideration."

"Yeah, a little stage makeup and they can looker older and paunchy under an expensive suit!"

"Careful Javier, I'll have one of actresses flirt with you while another one gets a photo that Lanie would just love to see!"

The single detective opted to change the subject, "So the plan is to have the look-alikes pop up around town and see if Maddox follows them hoping to find Beckett. Meanwhile I follow Maddox." The plan had merit but it seemed to Esposito that the writer made it too complicated.

"Why no one that looks like Beckett? I know you think she's not another woman in the world like her, but isn't a fake-Kate the best decoy possible?"

"No, it's too dangerous for the decoy and it might tip Maddox off that we are playing with him. He's spent a hell of a lot of time doing surveillance on her and probably knows the gait of her walk as well as I do. Since I haven't been his focus it is easier to pull off the illusion of my life with the car, clothes, loft and a few fake fans ending up with a forged autographs."

"You're right." Esposito wouldn't underestimate this guy again. Javi got laid out by this chuckle head. Even Beckett lasted longer than he did. The distant voice over the cheap phone broke into his thoughts.

"But take special care that no harms comes to the decoys." Beckett made Castle promise to emphasize that point. He didn't want to tell the man how to do the job, but the writer's mind saw it all so clearly. "I suggest you pose another student as a paparazzi and see what info they can get out of the Plaza staff and shoot pictures of the crowds anytime the fake me shows up. The rest of the students expect to be paired up to "character research" as a PI. You've got enough to put one on every block but use them however you want."

"Bro, these amateurs can't do surveillance on your Ferrari or the hotel without getting made by Maddox. Are you sure you don't want to hire professionals?"

"A pro recognizes a pro. I think Maddox will know instantly if a he's being tailed by person walking behind him as he does the usual maneuvers to check his 'six.' With the students you can put one on every block to find out where he parks his vehicle. Once we have his ride figured out we can switch to electronic surveillance. These actors are an endless army of different faces that will operate below the instincts of Maddox. Their craft demands they be observant and then blend-in to whatever scene. And sometimes the best way to be over-looked is to stand out on a manner that guarantees you are seen and dismissed. Like have purple hair, chew gum and laugh while you send text messages all day long."

"I see what you mean, but Maddox would notice her if she ever showed up again."

"So tell the actress her character lives in the area and challenge her to come up with a back story and research to make it credible. They're quick studies. Show them what to do or not to do and they are trained to follow direction. Or they can have a different look each time you assign them to a task to do or to a position to watch. They know how to using props and do improv."

Esposito had to give the writer credit for finding a way around problems, using people he trusted and still giving them a good chance at success. But giving praise wasn't done. "Admit it: you really just want to save money since actors will work for peanuts and real PI's are expensive."

Castle laughed and appreciated the way cops kept it light. "Yeah, you know I'm trying to impress this special woman with my wealth," the sarcasm was dripping off the words.

"Right! Beckett is a kept woman. If I dared to tease her about that she'd hurt me. Good luck keeping her distracted during all this."

All Castle could do was sigh at the thoughts his brain produced. Distracted was easy; they were still in their rainbow tinted bubble - the one that lasted much longer after making love instead of sated bliss after sex. They were still working a case, still building theory, still them. It was when the case came to a head and Beckett could only stand back and watch that the bubble would burst and she'd run. Until then, the writer juggled plot lines. "Need anything else?"

"One last question, man. Can't you invent a scenario where I'm the one driving your Ferrari around town instead of the fake dude?"

"Javi, if we pull this off you can drive my Ferrari whenever you want."

* * *

Senator Bracken left his latest dalliance sleeping, grabbed a his second phone and called the burner phone. It was a test to see if Maddox was sleeping at 2 a.m. as much as a convenient time for an update without anyone overhearing this nefarious discussion. "Where the hell is she?"

_'I don't know' was the wrong answer._ That's the kind of response to get yourself killed and a new hired gun eager to prove something. Maddox hedged, "She's hiding."

The senator let out a most undignified snort. "The writer makes his money off her. He'll know where she is. A man always keeps track of his bread and butter." Currently his bread and butter was brokering long term deals to arm the rebels in Syria. His third world manufacturing facility produced cheap knockoffs that were currently undermining a hostile foreign entity. Too many intermediaries and his profits were cut, but too much involvement led a trail back to him. He needed to focus on that delicate dance and put this wily female down.

"Richard Castle is being elusive. He's still in the city, though, so I think she is too." At least he could show vigilance by knowing that much.

"Flush her out."

"I've already trashed her apartment. Watched what cops came out. The Hispanic never showed or I would have followed him. The blue-eyed one did, but my source at the precinct says that rift never healed."

"Any way to use the stuff for making her look dirty to draw her out?"

At last a chance to show some initiative: "I thought it might be better to rework that stuff- have the patsy plant it elsewhere. There is already Montgomery's history, a suspended cop, and Beckett going rogue, so it builds on what is already established. We can cast a black cloud over the whole precinct."

A huff of approval. "Okay. But your priority is finding Beckett. Get creative."

This was why a thinking mercenary was more valuable than a thug: "I could steal her motorcycle. Involve it in an accident or something illegal. That might force her out. Or I could snatch her father."

A huff of annoyance answered. "Let's try _creative_ before you draw federal notice for kidnapping. I'll tell you what to do but first assure me the location is ready?"

So his boss still wanted a little "private time" with the woman. Not that he blamed the man. She was damn fine looking if a little more scarred than before. Actually he might have a private moment with her. Not for that - he would never assume first rights before his employer had her, but he was damned curious to see the wound. Just how close did he come. It had to be the ammo…

A snort of impatience focused Maddox, "I've got a deserted building by a noisy road. The distribution facility had trucks pull in to unload and there are a bunch of wooden crates are still there. I'll sound proof one of them. There are no surveillance cameras in the area and I put up my own security system to keep tabs on it."

"Good. Be ready because this will flush her out. Mimic what might be a gang initiation. Do several so the vandalism isn't obviously directed at her. Knock some over, spray paint others, but make sure to destroy Beckett's. Sledgehammer would be quieter but slower. Dynamite might be better because it's quick. Your choice."

Maddox replayed the description of the carnage searching for a target: _bike? Author's loft or her father's cabin? _"Vandalize what?"

An evil chuckle came through the cheap burner phone. "I want you to defile Johanna Beckett's grave site. Blow the tombstone to smithereens and dig a hole above the casket and disturb the final resting place of that bitch. Piss on her for me. She's been a thorn in my side since I had her killed I'll do my damnedest to see she never rests in peace."


	11. Hunker Down in the Bunker

_Author's note: Wow-the closing paragraph of the previous chapter struck a nerve! I am humbled that I was able to throw out a snippet that caught readers by surprise - Thank You! Meanwhile more of Castle's doomsday provisions..._

* * *

**Chapter 11 Hunker Down in the Bunker**

Castle flopped on the other stool, winded and staring, after a thorough search for Kate. He expected to find Beckett in the office nook of the house, and he did, but it was the paternal one settling in to the new surroundings. The men gave a single nod to each other and Castle continued his journey. Next he climbed down the stairs to the moon base. The lighting was off in both directions so she hadn't been by in the last 15 minutes. He tried to guess which section she would claim as her own. Castle replayed a scene from the first night at the bunker…

_"Um, there are 3 small bedrooms up here in the house, but a dozen sleeping units down below," Alexis hesitantly announced. She looked around at the adults unsure in her role as hostess. "I'll sleep in a pod down in Tranquility and I know Gram wants a room upstairs."_

_"No, Alexis," Jim quickly cut in. He saw enough in the back seat on the trip - heated looks and longing glances, a secret caress and holding hands to know a significant shift had taken place in his Katie's heart. "I think you should stay upstairs with your grandmother in case someone comes to the door. They know you and it would be unusual if you weren't here right away. The rest of us can try out the facilities below ground."_

_"Why don't girls sleep upstairs and boys sleep downstairs?" Martha unwittingly countered._

_"Yes, I think Kate needs to sleep upstairs." Castle agreed._

_"And why is that, Rick?" Kate asked with a raised eyebrow, knowing full well that his over active imagination was strangling his libido._

_"Um, because, you'll sleep better." He was trying very hard not to say having her underground was too close to having her 'six feet under' or any other euphemism about being dead and buried. He picked up on her tension about the place and figured she needed to keep her head up._

_"I'll sleep just fine as long as you're beside me." She tried to ignore the surprised gasped from Rick (and his family) at her bold assertion. She openly tucked herself into his side and his arm automatically pulled her close. "I refuse to hide in a closet and pretend our relationship hasn't changed."_

_Martha squealed and gave a dramatic flourish, "About damn time! Jim, you better sleep upstairs - we'll all benefit from the sound-proofing."_

_"GRAM! That is so gross!"_

_"No darling, that's realistic. Gross would be suggesting they don't need to find the storage container with extra clothes in it because they won't be dressed anytime during the next week. I however do need to find the provisions made for sleep attire. If I recall consideration was made for fashion and not just generic garments." The flamboyant woman spun her granddaughter around and headed her towards the stairs. "Let's go. Jim, accompany us?"_

_"We'll all go together. Goodness knows you'll need someone to act as your bag boy," Rick was bursting at his lover's words and he needed an outlet._

_The writer monkey chattered as they trooped down the stairs and around the bunker. "The numbers, 1 through 12, let you know where you are - like hands on a clock." The sounds echoed through the bland concrete corridors. The base commander pointed at a brightly painted steel shipping container, a vibrant break from the grayscale, and continued the orientation, "The colors are loosely connected to the purpose of the section. Red houses emergency medical unit. Yellow is for wellbeing - games and exercise equipment. Green is below the greenhouse and has food supplies. Blue has the guns and security monitors. Purple has the clothing and incidentals. We've got sweat pants, khakis in every size. Shirts, socks, shoes and other, um, undergarments. Alexis and mother had quite a bit of fun shopping, but they did try to buy sizes and styles that were appropriate for the guests that might be here."_

_"You skipped the color orange." the detail-oriented lawyer pointed out._

_"Oh, well. This is a place for worst case scenarios. So orange for hazards - bio, chem or nuke." Castle looked embarrassed._

_Kate remembered all too well setting in an isolation tent waiting for the decontamination process. She didn't begrudge her partner and teased her father, "Orange you glad you asked?"_

_Everyone groaned. Kate got a hip bump from her man child as they continued to journey to deeper hues of the color wheel._

_The clothing section was near the tactical supplies in the blue corrugated steel. Castle nudged Kate as they went by. "You should feel right at home in there. It has a battered old desk and an uncomfortable chair beside it."_

_"Nope. I gave up NYPD blue and I am trying for Mary Sunshine, though you would have me be Kathy Black. Let's settle on Kate- not detective Beckett, just Kate."_

So Castle went to the nautilus equipment in the yellow wedge and found it deserted. Just to be thorough he crossed over to blue command center and found it equally still. He made a methodically search of the moon base. No luck. His next guess for the woman he knew so well was to pop up to a barn converted to a workshop where the Hummer was parked. Maybe she went into town for newspapers or to get the lay of the land. Maybe she bolted now that everyone else was safe...

The vehicle was indeed missing but a note was tacked to the empty key hook: "Gram and I went into town for groceries and to another farm for fresh cheese. Yes, I'll go by the sweet shop..."

But now that avenue was exhausted (and his legs close to it) and there was still no sign of Beckett. The process of elimination left only one location.

Castle flopped on the other stool, winded and staring. He tried to puzzle out why she choose the greenhouse. He watched her pouring over the Montgomery files, filling a yellow tablet with notes, cross-checking data. She ignored Castle and his unspoken questions. (Goodness knows she had plenty of practice with that and some things didn't need to change.) She was thrumming with tension? impatience? Repressed energy waiting to spring into action?

He'd given her everything he had. All he had left was unflinching devotion. He wondered if it was enough.

* * *

**Katherine** Beckett wasn't afraid of foreign lands or exotic foods. She was comfortable with high society and homosexuals. She was sexually confident and beautiful. She wasn't afraid of much. There was something that unsettled and worried this exceptional woman. It wasn't falling down the rabbit hole of her mother's murder investigation. Yeah, she struggled with it but she also had given it up twice before. Of course it was connected to her mother, wasn't everything in her adult life about her mother? Her deepest fear was failing in the one thing she vowed to the cold granite headstone on a bleak day. It was a simple utterance, born of frustration because of an alcoholic father and no desire to continue to law school. If she couldn't be the first female Chief Justice of the US Supreme Court, and now she quit being a detective, how was she going to make good on her promise to make her mother proud?

**Kate** Beckett wasn't afraid of much. She shrugged off the perps who wanted to do vile things to her body. She actually loved the rush from facing down the guns and knives. The sting from the tattoo needle or the burn in her muscles during a workout made her feel alive. You'd think matching wits with killers and psychopaths would give her nightmares but they were manageable. What scared her wasn't her father's alcoholism or even the publicity that went along with being Nikki Heat. What scared this former cop was loosing the love of her life. Her fears whispered she could lose him from a damned bullet (did he really have to publish it in Heat Rises?) Fear also whispered maybe she wasn't enough for him - anymore. He shrugged off a former muse in a much sexier job. He brought back Derrick Storm. (What does that mean for Nikki?) Now that she wasn't a cop - how did she keep Richard Castle interested?

**Katie **Beckett wasn't scared of the dark (despite what her daddy thought). She just wanted to avoid the temptation to creep out of bed and use the feeble light to read late into the night. Monsters in the dark were easy compared to her mom's disapproval in the light of day. Katie wasn't afraid of the playground bully - even back then she knew how to handle herself and others. She wasn't afraid of anything in big city known as the big apple. Get her out in the country and there was one thing she would avoid at all costs. And she was surrounded by them. Lots of them. All around her were those damn river rocks.

She hated those smooth stones that were ready to tumble off their precarious stacks and bury a person alive. Give her sharp stones for rock climbing that tore your fingers and cramped your feet trying to find purchase on a vertical surface. Not those slippery smooth spheres waiting to pummel you under an avalanche. Those were the kind of stones that in the old days lined a water well and looked deceptively too cute to board up. Just because a kid might drop a toy down its depth, the lack of water at the bottom didn't mean the child might not get trapped in its dank and dark depths. An athletic child might be able to shimmy part way down after the yellow Frisbee before loosing her footing on the moss covered stones and tumbling to the bottom. The youth tried to climb out of the old well except the rocks came loose and knocked her on the head and bruised her arms. The young girl stayed trapped until her playmate finally wandered by to see what was taking so long. The dumb boy may have teased her too long before lowering the rope and giving her a means to escape. So Katie Beckett was scared of river rocks.

* * *

Castle's castle was a fortress made of stone and rock. But unemployed detectives marked for death and hiding in a glass nursery shouldn't throw stones - even metaphysical ones. She couldn't tell him. She wouldn't disparage the safe haven the father/daughter team built. Kate adapted. She spent as much time as possible out of the stone house. She was also vaguely unsettled by Castle's secret moon base. So her destination of choice was the greenhouse. The bright light, lush smells, and oxygen laden air was soothing. She settled her bruised body on the stool around what was supposed to be a repotting table and claimed her space. She spread out the unaltered Montgomery files. She needed to study these pieces of paper that held the power for her life and so many deaths.

Castle studied her aloof posture a moment longer. When she reached over and gave his hand a squeeze he relaxed. She had followed him to the unknown and she was here for now. She needed some familiar routines so he followed her lead. He wanted to build theory, but instead sat quietly and let his mind contemplate what Bracken might be up to.

Jim Beckett's unwitting assignments the day he opened the Smith box stayed intact. Kate poured over the NYPD folders, Rick focused on the background information gathered by Smith on the Senator's stunning rise to power and the wide reach of his influence. Jim followed the wealth- followed the money and all things financial. Johanna's file stayed closed. It was a symbolic gesture to keep the spirit of her commitment to Rick unbroken. Actually it was still in Rick's procession. It was an uneasy détente between lovers, between past and present, between promises and reality. Détente between the dead and the living.


	12. Murdering Time

"Richard Castle, I **know **what's going on…"

It was a small blessing that Gina, pit bull publicist, couldn't see his reaction over the phone. He didn't doubt for one second that she sniffed it out. She had an army of nosey reporters and she alternately barked at them and beguiled them with her puppy dog eyes. If one of them talked to a law enforcement official or, worse yet, the dragon deliberately leaked the situation to flush them out, Gina would know. _Damn… it would wrestle control away from Beckett, and Kate Beckett needed the illusion of control now more than ever…_

"What's going on?" _Play dumb. _He was good at that - especially with ex-wives. He braced himself for the 30 second sound bite of Johanna's murder conspiracy.

"You've taken things to the next level… Your toes are so tangled with your muse I'll bet she's listening to this conversation. I've heard she refuses to leave your love nest. I've seen the twitter reports where you are running around in your Ferrari and still getting 2 cups of coffee. I know she's taken a leave of absence from the force. You two are checked into the Plaza. So help me if you've gotten married without telling me I'll put you in the dog house and you'll never get out."

The author hid his relief. "Publicist who work in glass offices shouldn't throw stones…" He let the warning linger for a second, "My relationship with Beckett isn't anyone's business and you have no right to pry. It's about time you remember that you work for me."

Even with all the years of marriage Rick never tried to put Gina in her place before. That alone told her more than anything the author said. She moved off that that topic for the moment and tossed back her own warning, "How long are you planning on skipping out of your promotional duties?" _Some things never change…_

Castle smoothed it over, "As a creative soul I need this time away from the spotlight to let the story go so I can embrace my connection to my fans and loyal readers when Frozen Heat is released."

She laughed at his bullshit. "God, that was good! I'll use that quote, but I need more. If I don't feed the press, they'll get hungry and make up their own fodder. How would you like to read that Beckett is hiding because her baby bump might show before a shotgun wedding can be presided over by Mayor Bob?"

A sharp intake of breath was followed by several seconds of silence.

"So help me I will sue for slander, ruin them professionally, and then ask my mob connection to make a point for me." He fumed at the possibility. It would end them.

"Down, playboy. I am just illustrating what happens if I don't create something news worthy. If I can't have you, then I need to do something bizarre like a photo shoot of the cover model painted blue.

_Fine. Whatever. _He really didn't care but tried to keep up pretenses, "Isn't that too much like Blue Man Group or Avatar?"

"Hey, it's symbolic of a **Frozen **Nikki Heat. It's better than commissioning an ice sculpture of a fire. Maybe I should go sentimental and sponsor a snowball fight on the lawn of the Children's hospital. We can sell snow cones to raise money for literacy and ask for donations of children's books."

"Yeah, you've got my approval to do whatever. Just keep Beckett out of it."

"I know my job. Promise to be ready when the release is immanent. Need I remind you of the contractual obligations you're under to promote the book? Get your priorities straight."

"Gina, you have no idea of priorities and consequences of my life. Bye." Rick pounded the end call button as if that would simulate a loud banging of the receiver on old phones. Kate's priorities had very big consequences, Castle's life was about selling a few thousand more or less books. He huffed and tried to tap down his ire. A soft caress soothed down his arm and encircled his waist. He forgot she was nearby, listening.

Softly she asked, "How much work are you skipping out on to baby sit me?"

"Don't, Kate, please don't try to find an excuse to separate us." He turned in her arms, studied her face and savored her proximity.

"I'm not looking for reasons, but they exist. If you need to go…" Her voice trailed off and she tried to step back, away from his heat and his embrace.

"Gina can earn her pay and take care of Frozen Heat."

"She blames me. Don't deny it. That's why you mentioned my name."

"No, Gina claimed she knew what was going on. Thank god she only meant we were together and not that we are chasing down a major conspiracy and under a death threat."

"You confirmed we are a couple to your publicist?"

_Oh shit. Damn..._

"Um, I may have been so relieved about what she **didn't** know, and relieved to get out of the public appearances, that I might **not** have denied our relationship changed." _Shit! _

Kate's eyes were closed and she took a minute to form her answer. She opened them and stared hard. "I hoped the public knowledge of our relationship would be later instead of sooner."

Castle was trying to find the words that might make her forgive him after she twisted his ear off and threatened to never sleep with him again. This worked before: "I am so sorry, Kate." Castle didn't dare mention the malicious gossip that might start circulating… _Baby bump… Shotgun wedding… _

Now it was Castle who dropped his arms and backed away. Already he prepared himself for her reaction.

She read his body language and countered, "I need you." She echoed her sentiments and moved back to him, her hands fingering the broad shoulders and wide chest. "I'm still here."

_You need me, but do you want me? _"How long?" He immediately regretted the question.

Raised eyebrows greeted the barb. She admitted, "You're my rock and you're brilliant at finding ways around dead ends so I understand why you doubt why I'm still with you even though I'm putting you at risk. I haven't given you much reason to expect I won't kick you out again- tell you we are over and then not call you for 3 months." The awkwardness of last summer hung in the air between them.

His hands reached out to tether her and he tried light banter, "Hey, I'm glad you need me. Beckett is famous for not needing anyone. You can use me anytime." A suggestive eyebrow wiggle followed with a leer. He continued in a more somber tone, "I don't care why you wanted to see me after your convalescence. I'm just thankful you needed the files I had."

"Well, you're half right." Her voice had a teasing tone.

"Really? You admit it? You wanted the information and that's the only reason you found me?" His words said he didn't care but his heart blanched at the sting of her admission.

She waited for the wordsmith to puzzle it out. The replay of pain was hard to watch so she gave him the words: "I wanted to see **you**; not the file. I wanted a light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I wanted normal and needed strength and I didn't know how to ask for those things. I needed unconditional love to heal the emotional wounds and motivation to get mentally healthy. I had no right to expect you to forgive me, to understand what I was going through. What I had was **an excuse **to contact you. A reason to break the ice between us. My mom's case was convenient- something powerful outside of my own skin that I could focus on. I was counting on your guilt to let me back in your life. The information was an excuse to get to you."

"Kate, do you have any idea how guilty I still feel about everything that happened?"

She sank under the thought. "Is that why you stayed away? I was amazed you left me alone. I was grateful, but surprised. And I needed you to stay away. You don't know what I was like." she lowered her eyes, lowered her voice, afraid of the image she was giving him.

His quiet support urged her on.

"You want extraordinary - want Nikki and I wasn't… I felt like I didn't deserve… When I could finally take a deep breath - literally - I was desperate to get back to the way things were. Nikki (_you_) - made me get up when all I wanted to do was give up - crawl in a hole and never come out. But I got stubborn and vowed to not let you see me weak. So I was either going to recover or…" her voice trailed off.

Castle crowded her more, impossibly closer, wanting to match her honesty. "I stayed away to punish myself? To prepare myself for the worst: that you were still alive but would never live - a full life. You were just starting to open up before the shooting. I felt like we had such a connection in LA. Then Montgomery was killed and you _hated_ me when I carried you out of the hanger and made you listen to the gunshots. How could you forgive me for all that? Besides, I thought you were with Josh."

"I could never hate you." She let the simple declaration hang in the air before she murmured more, "I heard Josh accused you of being the reason all this happened. Dad was furious with him over it. He knew as soon as he told me the story Josh was history. I may have felt some admiration of Dr. Davidson, but I had my fill of the man named Josh long before my shooting."

"Can we stop having unspoken conversations and use words from now on? I want to finish tearing down walls and build up our relationship."

Beckett studied him. "You can't believe my actions until those 3 words are said aloud?"

"No! Kate, I am not pushing _that_. It's just that so much has happened. I'm afraid you'll regret choosing me over your job and the only reason you're still here is because you don't have any other choices. It's a challenge to stay one step ahead of you. I'm afraid I'll let you down, Beckett."

"That's what worries you?" She stepped back from him.

Beckett waved her arms at the greenhouse, the hidden tunnels, the doomsday preparations. "Castle, I'm so lost in Wonderland that Alice herself couldn't find her way out. I'm sleeping in an underground bunker. There's money and guns and a small army doing surveillance on my behalf. Hell, I'm beginning to answer to the name of Kathy Black. Maybe the cow did jump over the moon but there is no way back through the looking glass even though I have no idea about your life - any of this - even after years of being around you."

Her voice was rising and her gestures grew more agitated, "Just like I had no idea about your first muse until we stumbled across Sofia Turner for a case. You really think I'm going to run away now that I've admitted you're more important to me than my mother's case? More important to me than being a cop?"

In a calmer tone she continued her ramblings, "I'm not mad - as in angry. I may be mad - as in bewildered. All that matters is I… want you." Her voice trailed off and she ducked her head, substituting 'want' for another word that was too new to say.

The storyteller's heart eased and he repaid her by zeroing in on the literary reference, "I think that makes me the Mad Hatter from Alice in Wonderland."

She played along, "The queen sentenced him for 'murdering the time.' Learn from his example."

His roguish grin was too big for the enclosed space. "Let's forgo the tea party in favor of coffee. Want a cup?"

"Always."


	13. Jim Beckett Goes Fishing

Jim Beckett scrunched his eyes and tried to clear the tangled lines of numbers from too many accounts. He was tired of fishing through financial reports and trying to find a legal hook to go after this bastard. He needed a break.

Ignoring the protest from his aging limbs he forced himself to abandon the cozy library and get the blood circulating again. Maybe a little time outdoors would do the trick. He could even take an hour to substitute the financial fishing expedition for the real deal. He heard Alexis mention a trout pond…

He ambled towards sounds coming from the kitchen. Maybe Rick could point him towards tackle and rod. It may not be sporting to go after captive species who depend on people for food, but Jim could pretend it was contributing to the food supply. He stomach rumbled softly anticipating dinner.

The would-be fisherman stopped short when he encountered Alexis instead of her father.

They were the weakest link. In the domestic harmony of the fractured families seeking to become united in strength, Jim Beckett and Alexis Castle had the least in common and carried huge influence over their loved ones. Both were also deceptively smart and maintained a careful neutrality.

The young red head paused from contemplating supplies in the pantry and gave a hesitant glance at Kate's father. "Hi Mr. Beckett."

He quickly decided to do a different kind of fishing and see if his bait got nibbled. "Hello Miss Castle."

She smiled at his address. Most older people loved formal speech but Jim's smirk hinted at a different mindset. She tested her theory, "How does steaks on the grill sound to you?"

Jim countered with a symbolic olive branch, "Vegetarian lasagna?" He raised an eyebrow, each openly testing the other's comfort zone. "I'm happy to help make dinner."

The surprise passed but Alexis didn't waste the opportunity, "I hear you roast a chicken to golden perfection."

"Good choice. Everyone has their favorite rubs and seasonings, but the key to mouth watering chicken is how long it's cooked at certain temperatures. It's all about the timing and letting the meat rest before it's served."

"Kate said you made it regularly last summer, so it must be one of her favorites."

_Last summer… _Both paused. Nothing about last summer evoked warm feelings of sunshine and flowers.

Jim managed a smile at the opening that came without a question. He also decided to not waste the opportunity. "No, it was **not** one of her favorites which is exactly why I made it every week." He let the youngster chew on that thought. He busied himself rinsing the chicken and grabbing a roasting pan from the open shelves. "Kate loves foods full of flavor and spice. I think her favorite is Chinese food."

"I don't understand."

Jim dangled a little more bait in the form of information. "It seems like when you're sick you should get to eat all your favorite foods. The reality of being sick, really sick, is that nothing tastes good. Especially if you are on medications -they can change the way your taste buds interpret flavors. Things taste flat on a good day, and on a bad day just the thought of food makes you vomit."

Jim waited to see if the girl got squeamish about the idea of regurgitation being mentioned during dinner prep.

When she nodded slowly, Jim recalled this unusual young person chose to intern in a morgue. He could be more graphic in his answers.

"So why did you bother going to all that effort if you knew Kate wouldn't or couldn't eat it?"

"She had to eat or die. It was that simple." _It was anything but simple. _The brutality of what his Katie's body endured was only beginning as most people celebrated the day she sat up and started talking. Jim was going to find some way to disabuse the youth of assumptions. "When she was released from the hospital she was still weak but as headstrong as ever. The first time I brought her green Jell-O it ended up splattered on the wall."

A hesitant grin tugged at his mouth; it was the first time he could chuckle at the memory. "She said if I was going to bring her baby food she was going to act like a child. We battled every 6 hours: I bullied her and she begged me to take the food away. She'd eat a few bites and gag. I'd start right back cajoling her to try another food. When we weren't fighting about that there was medications to take, bandages to change, and simple exercises to keep her muscles from atrophying and procedures to keep fluids from collecting in her lungs. She screamed at me to leave and never come back." Jim's hunched shoulders revealed just as much as his words.

"Oh! I thought you two would be closer because of last summer. It sounds like war." the redhead stood rooted to a spot openly gapping at the imagery.

His movements became robotic, the mere memory dragging him back. His agenda was less focused, "Katie's metaphysical heart was just as wounded but there was no easy way to patch that part up. She had survivor's guilt - the same man that financed her mother's murder also decreed Katie should die. Yet she survived - her mother didn't. Or maybe it was because her captain died and she lived. Maybe both. She was living hell on earth. She crawled on her hands and knees rather than ask for help. I'd find her sobbing in the blackest part of the night staring at the stars, wracked with pain. She'd refuse a hug - didn't want to be touched. She was in constant fog of suffering and she lashed out. Mentally, physically and emotionally she was a wreck. She said terrible, hurtful things."

He shook off the gloomy recollections. "Where's the spice rack? "Jim finally turned to survey the teen under the guise of waiting for her answer (her verdict on his daughter.)

Alexis ignored the recipe for her dish and pried; she was hooked by the story. "So she shut you out too? Did you go away and have visiting nurses take over?"

"If I left I would have felt like I'd failed my daughter - again - and I probably would have relapsed. Katie is worth fighting for. I gave up once before and I learned from my mistakes. Part of being human is screwing things up, so when I got a second chance I knew to make it count. No matter how hard it was to see her weak or lashing out, I knew it was a mirror from the last event that redefined our father/daughter bond. She cleaned me up when I was drunk, put food in me so I had the strength to fight the blackness, and then gave me unwavering support. I was a terrible person when I was drunk but Katie made it clear she wasn't going to loose me too. She put me back together. I was the _only_ person who could stand up to her." Jim read the surprise about his alcoholic addiction. He had really dumped an earful on the kid. He repeated his earlier question, "Where do you keep the spices? I want to prepare a rub for the chicken."

She pointed at a cupboard and mused aloud, "So you balanced the karma and put her back together."

Their father/daughter relationship was much more complicated, but that wasn't the point Alexis needed to understand. In a soft voice Jim asked, "What is your father like when you're sick?"

OH! The young adult quickly transferred the image of what her dad was like to how Kate was and got an image of carnage that would have ensued. She watched Jim surveyed the pungent collection of jars and turned several labels backwards. He carefully selected a half dozen from the remaining choices.

"Dad hovers and becomes rather overbearing when I'm sick. Why did you do that?" she pointed to the jars turned backwards.

Jim faced the youth. "That's how nitty-gritty her recover was. Those spices have a bitter element to them. Once when I used some of them it triggered a panic attack because adrenaline gives off a bitter taste and I inadvertently sparked an episode by putting that bad taste back in her mouth- literally." The father paused and waited to catch the youth's full attention. "Alexis, I admire the strength it took for your father to honor her wish to stay away. As hard as it must have been; it was the right decision."

The daughter tested the theory out on her own tongue, "The hurt from the silence was less than the hurt from the words that would have been said. Words mean everything to my dad. Not hearing any wasn't the worst thing that could have happened." Jim was laying it all out there for the teen. She reciprocated, "I had a boyfriend that I loved, but sometimes love isn't enough. Is that the story you're telling?"

"Not my place to evaluate another person's love."

Right, neither of them, no matter how well meaning, had the right to judge another's feelings. Alexis bluntly asked Jim's intentions, "Why are you sharing all this with me? Do you think I'm to hard on Detec- Kate?"

Jim was a shrewd evaluator of character. "No. that would assume you are mad at my Katie and holding a grudge a year later. I would never disparage your character with that assessment." He finished preparing the chicken and popped it in the oven.

A faint blush tinged her cheeks from the compliment. She cocked her head, searching for the deeper meaning, the unspoken agenda, but it lingered just out of grasp. She turned back to the dish of scalloped potatoes she was making. "You're giving me background on something even more important than what happened last summer..."

Jim had her hooked, now he just needed to let it play out. "College is when most young adults try on different roles, personalities, and alter egos until they become their own person. Katie never got to decide who she wanted to be."

"Because Johanna was murdered."

"Because both parents abandoned her and some part of her thinks it was her fault." He paused watching the rapt attention. "Kate's relationship with us- her mother and I, was interrupted when she was still in her rebellious phase. Sure, it had started by dating bad boys and getting a tattoo. It evolved into insisting on a semester abroad in Kiev instead of someplace safe like Oxford and riding a Harley across the country instead of driving my safe and reliable Jeep to California. Katie teased her mom about working extra long hours now that we were 'empty nesters' and I spent more time than I should have drinking and playing poker with my colleagues."

Kate's father shrugged. "She thinks if she stayed closer to home instead of going away it wouldn't have happened. It sounds too simplistic but she admitted it one night when she was trying to sober me up. She doesn't know I remember it but it was the start of my recovery. I couldn't let her think she was being a bad daughter and bad things happened as a result."

Jim shook off the hard memories and stared the youth down. "Just because someone wants forever doesn't mean they get happy ever after. Kate has been putting in the hard work to make always possible - to make the fairy tale come true." The lines were out there. Now it was a matter of seeing if they hooked something good or got tangled in debris.

The redhead looked years lighter, younger, and even a wee bit excited. "Oh, kind of a case of right person; wrong time. But now…" She popped the dish of potatoes into a different oven, her mind whirling.

_Success! _Jim smiled to himself. _Life is so simple as youth. Tonight I'll lock myself back in the library and work on snagging bigger fish. Tomorrow is soon enough to fillet some of those trout for dinner… _

Alexis wanted to make tonight, this dinner memorable, even a little special… a triumph over all the injustice. She cocked her head and interrupted Jim's inner musings, "Ever had space ice cream? We've got cookies-n-cream and mint chocolate chip and strawberry…"


	14. Shadows & Craters

Chapter 14: Shadows & Craters

* * *

"We've got nothing."

The words were less telling than the setting. Kate Beckett, daughter of lawyers and a former officer of the law sat slumped in an underground bunker. She pushed the files away. A hand waved despondently over the mess, "He's had too much time to cover his tracks. The trail of the mob money from the cops to Bracken ends in the fire that wipes out the old banks records. Nothing else in here is ironclad. The conspiracy to commit murder is too circumspect to make a strong case in court. The shit that can be proved is too small to matter or the statue of limitations has run out. An attorney could easily argue I've planted whatever meager evidence there is. We've got nothing." she repeated yet it felt like something big was out there.

Rick crowed between the table (the files) and his lover. "We've got leads. We've got time. We just started working with all the puzzle pieces. We've got this."

She didn't believe a word of it. Sarcasm dripped from her words. "Right. No pressure as long as I stay underground. If I pop my head up they'll put me in the ground permanently. Maybe you better get me pregnant so I have an incentive to hunker down."

He refused to raise to the bait, but did caress her jaw, the pad of his thumb toying at her lips. Castle was a bit of an expert at taking overwhelming circumstances and finding a way for characters to have a fighting chance. He felt it too: something lurking in the shadows.

He soothed her despite contradicting in inclinations, "Time. We will take this one year at a time. Alexis and I talked and she volunteered to take a 'gap' year before going off to college. She suggested some time in Africa with the Peace Corps. My mother suggested I sue her over my unpublished plays. The media attention can work to both our advantages and meanwhile it keeps her safe because of our very public falling out."

Kate looked frantic, "No! Rick, absolutely not."

A single finger of Rick's gently stilled the protest of her words. "They each offered. They each want to help. This is how they can show their support of us. Your father seems determined to forge a link through the financials. Esposito found the van Maddox is driving. He's going to put a GPS tracker on it and we might just get a photograph of Maddox meeting with Bracken during the Senator's upcoming trip to NYC. We need patience. We will get there."

Kate shook her head, dislodging his touch. She had to shrug him off to think clearly. "This is my fight. I can't let them, let my father…"

Softly he antagonized her, "Don't be so selfish. Don't pretend this fight is yours alone and don't push away your support system. I will not let you slam the door shut with me on the other side."

"Castle…" she warned. He always made it about her running…

"We are your family and you shouldn't want to stop us from helping. Let your dad finally feel empowered to get back at the man who has taken his wife, your innocence and his sobriety." Yeah, that kicked the fight right out from under her. He plowed ahead, "Let's use the advantages, however small, given to us by the magic of the universe. These little inroads will let the investigation proceed without drawing attention or putting innocents at risk."

"Castle, what if I go confront Bracken? Find a way to have a private meet and lay it on the line. Threaten him with the files?" Action - doing something - anything was better than sitting it out, hiding. Unsaid was that she could do it without him…

"Threaten a senator? Let's pretend you could get past the security- pretend your resignation isn't being gossiped about by every NYPD cop and they would wave you through. Let's imagine that I want you alone in a room with a man who wants you dead. This will look like a crazed ex-cop fixated on a highly respected public servant. It confirms you have files - which just might make you a bigger target for him. Might make him want to find a way discredit you like he did Mayor Weldon." Killing her spirit was just as big of a threat as the physical.

She huffed out a breath. A wrestling match of inner demons playing with her insecurities threatened another stalemate. Beckett asked for a nudge, a sign… "Do you…" She stopped, unable to give voice to the hidden carnage of her psyche.

"Kate, I know the meaning of words. When I said _always_, I meant it. I'm all about the story but it doesn't mean I am going to get bored with you if you're not a detective or walk away from unraveling the dragon's conspiracy."

"Mixed signals, Rick. You tell me we can finish the fight - it just takes time. Then you tell me I can walk away and it doesn't matter to you. Which is it?"

"Need some control? Some rules and boundaries to push?" The words balanced by a hint of a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.

It broke through the weight of the world. "Implying I'm a control freak? Or are you just trying to stay on my good side without knowing where that is from second to second?"

"Umm. Can I plead the fifth?" His impish grin gave way to the delight of being able to show his feelings. He snagged her arms, pulled her up, looped his fingers in her waistband, and nuzzled her scent. "I want to push other boundaries…"

She playfully pushed him away. A middle of the day tryst, no matter how appealing, wasn't going to get their lives reclaimed. She cocked an eye at him, waiting.

"Oh, okay. I've got stuff that will exonerate Mayor Weldon. I've also got hidden connections to overseas gambling, drugs, and gun manufacturing. Bracken took the mob ransoms and put it into disreputable industries overseas. That money grew even as the flow of funds got more obscured through dummy accounts. The bad news is that Smith had someone hack the information so none of it will stand up in court. I doubt these countries honor U.S. warrants and Bracken would know what is coming even before the legalities were complete. Umm, also these accounts deposit various amounts to people-probably people on the take. Some go back years. Others received a single payout."

"We need Ryan to run these account numbers and find out who is working for him."

"Actually, there is another way. One that leaves Ryan safe from breaking rules on our behalf."

"Why do you look so guilty?"

"Because I thought we could follow Smith's example. Use a hacker to find out who's accounts these are."

"Rick!" Beckett was appalled. _Why would he jeopardize the investigation like that?_

"I know a guy! He's trustworthy - won't drain their accounts or anything. He just likes the challenge. Usually he sends an email to the tech department telling them how he got in so they can fix it. I've used him to set up a lot of stuff. He set up the network here so the IP address is bounced around a few countries and anyone trying to trace it will be stumped." Castle was trying very hard to not point out the obvious…

Oh… "I guess it's hard for me to stop being a cop."

"Hey, it just gives us few more options. Let's find out who the players are. Then we can see about the scales of justice."

She hesitated. "Playing by the rules was important to my mom…"

Castle nudged her out from her mother's shadow, "You'll know for sure if Halstead- the fire chief who investigated the fire where the bank records were destroyed- you'll **know** if he was paid off."

She bit her lip. Teetering.

"Come on, Beckett. Justice comes in many forms. We are still the good guys even if our methods aren't NYPD. You heard your dad. If not us, then who?"

"Okay. Bracken carries a big stick. Let's find out where the carrots lead."

* * *

All the camera would show was a man dressed in a black hoodie and dirty jeans threw down a wad of cash without ever showing his face. A yawn testified to the late night (early morning hour) and his gait betrayed fatigue.

That particular job had been messy and Maddox couldn't wait to throw these clothes away. The paint cans left splatter on the sleeves, and the grass stains and sweat gave him an earthy smell. He slunk into the back corner of the internet café and hunched over the keyboard. No one was good enough to track his physical movements to this place, and the electronic trail would lead to the bank of Dubai - the same branch where the fee for Beckett's shooting was sent from. The mercenary made these payments go back 9 months so they started when the detective reported back for active duty. As long as the patsy didn't die anytime soon, no one would have a reason to check the mother's finances. It was perfect - it wouldn't come to light without digging so it was tentative enough to look deliberately hidden.

The sinister figure glanced around to make sure he was being ignored. The attendant was still distracted by the porn site he was leering over and the only other patron was a man speaking in some Asian tongue using Skype. He refocused his tired mind to complete the frame up for this new plan. The fake payouts weren't all that damning, but along with a surveillance photos of the cop at the drop site, the trail of money cast enough suspicion to keep the authority figure in line if needed. All that remained was getting the precinct pawn to hide the key.

* * *

At the entrance to the morgue were printed summaries of cases - each pinned to the cork board with a scalpel. A sign warned "No verbal consults today. Disregard at your own risk." A rib spreader, reference book and other various objects littered the floor where they were flung at brave souls tried to venture further into the realm of the dead.

The next sacrificial lamb pushed through her door had tired blue eyes. She put down the steel instrument tray she was preparing to hurl. She went back to her keyboard, frowning at the screen.

"Lanie, I'm pissed too. I haven't heard from her either."

"Try again, Detective Ryan."

They had been through this before: last summer Beckett didn't keep in contact. Lanie handled that better than this. Kevin studied her posture for a second longer. She was beyond pissed. She looked like she was ready to kill someone. "You know something I don't?"

She picked up the instrument tray a cocked her arm.

"Oh!" He put up his arms in surrender. "You heard about what they did to Johanna Beckett's grave? How'd you hear?"

"The sisterhood. Now do you have some new information to share or are you here to waste my time?"

"I've got a contact in the Guns & Gangs squad. He said it wasn't a gang. The tags were wrong. I know Maddox was behind this."

"Maddox be damned. Bracken is behind this. Johanna Beckett almost exposed him then and Bracken is trying to use this to expose Kate."

Kevin nodded in reluctant agreement. "This will end Kate. She'll have her mother's remains transported to a new resting place and the whole process will be like facing her mom's death all over again. She will rush here heedless of the danger and Maddox will be waiting for her yet again in a cemetery. Probably love the imagery of shooting her at Johanna's grave so the mother and daughter die together."

Lanie sprang out of her chair and advanced on Ryan. "You are NOT going to say a word to Beckett. Do you hear me? Not. one. word."

_Damn she is intimidating when she wants to be._ "How can I? I have no idea how to contract her. I know it will take the grounds keeper a few days to send out notices about the vandalism but it's also listed on the police blotter."

"Not anymore."

"How did you manage that?"

"The sisterhood."

He blinked. Lanie sat back down and focused again on the computer screen. "What if someone decides to publicize the information without official reports?"

"Already happened. Already stopped."

"Let me guess: the sisterhood?" The gentle tease failed to draw even a hint of a smile.

"If you don't have something to add I suggest you get your skinny little butt out of here."

Lanie was being a little too cold and his instincts were alerted. First step was to get her talking, "Sisterhood? Is that girl-version of the 'good-ole-boys' network?"

"I covered a few shifts for the M.E. over there so she called in favors to keep the uniforms quiet who took the report. The Public Affairs Officer for the NYPD goes to my church so she removed specifics from the police blotter. I alerted Gina to be on the lookout and she found something. Someone submitted a letter to the editor bemoaning the youth of today and sited the recent cemetery graffiti. She pointed out the letter was submitted before the crime was even reported."

"Gina? You called Gina Caldwell, Castle's ex-wife to stop a news item about Beckett's mother?"

"It's in Black Pawn's best interest to control publicity about Beckett and keep their author free from distractions. Now if you're satisfied I've got a lot of loose ends." She flung a box of latex gloves at a detective who saw Ryan and thought the coast was clear. The cop ducked and backed out with a glare at the Irish man.

"Now unless you are trying to lure more of your coworkers into being targets for me, I suggest you leave." She was trying a little to hard...

"Lanie, what are you working on?"

"Leave, Kevin."

He walked around her desk to scan the computer screen. "I doubt the homeless guy on your table was assassinated with an untraceable poison." He laid a hand gently on her shoulder. "No, Lanie. Don't stoop to his level."

A half sob broke through the doctor's careful façade. "I threatened Castle and yet I let this monster hurt her? No, Kevin. Enough is enough." She sank a little lower in her chair and looked broken. It wasn't even her mother and Lanie was devastated. Kate's reaction…, well, they both needed to shove that aside for the moment.

He leaned down and gave Lanie a hug. "I've thought about it too, but I have to believe good eventually triumphs over evil."

Those big chocolate eyes were brimming with unshed tears but a reluctant nod put the issue to rest. "I already called the cemetery. I know the administrator because of the work I do here. He's promised to have it cleaned up by the end of the day. The headstone will take a little longer to have replaced, but there's a rush on that, too."

Ryan cocked his head, "Are you going to keep it a secret from Beckett? Are you sure you're not overstepping? You know how Kate is…"

Lanie gave him a shrug. "Sisterhood."


	15. All the Players in Play

The requisition for assistance went on the pile. FBI Special Agent Jordan Shaw was getting a nice picture of the players involved. Detective Ryan didn't have the authority to request FBI assistance, but he cobbled together an official sounding plea that was just short of begging.

Captain Gates made a formal request based on the number of killings linked together. She didn't want a profile; she practically begged for the case to be taken over by the feds to remove the appearance of impropriety by the NYPD (thus protecting the reputation of HER precinct.)

Next came an interoffice memo requesting a "professional courtesy" by a fellow agent named Will Sorenson. He was desperate to get a geographical profile on the former detective Beckett. He wanted to know where she would go.

Then there was an order from above. An thinly veiled threat that she needed to use her skills to help the "…**appropriate** people resolve this mess quietly and quickly."

Agent Jordan Shaw pondered the disappearance of 2 Castles, 2 Becketts and a Rodgers. This was a sticky web with players both influential and ordinary. The public affairs agent had even turned away a Catholic priest wondering about the prolonged absence of the writer from twitter. There were long shadows being cast, and, one might pause and consider, quite a few ghosts still not put to rest.

Last, and by no means least, was the most interesting new addition to the list of players: the United States Department of Ethics from Congressional Affairs wanted to use her prior association to find, not Beckett, but Richard Castle. They ordered Shaw not to delve beyond finding the writer. 2 men waited in a conference room. Their motives, as yet, were unknown.

She fingered the envelop delivered to her residence. It always amused the profiler to be on the Christmas card list of an author of best selling crime novels. Now it provided an informal means of contact. The query was deceptively short, "The chess board is crowed. A white rook and queen are keeping a black king and pawn in check. All the other pieces are unclear. Can you deign any colors?"

Good question. They weren't interested in moves until they understood the players. _Who should they trust?_ She had no answer. Yet… FBI special agent Jordan Shaw went to the conference room.

...

"This is just making it more dangerous for her." The youthful agent huffed at being sidelined around a table doing nothing but talking. "It's like Beckett has fallen off the face of the earth. We don't know where to concentrate our resources."

Shaw grinned, "Someone put out a twitter call to Castle fans asking for sightings. Certainly that helped provide leads?"

A groan was just as telling than the answer she received, "Castle is a magician. He is on surveillance tapes using his credit card to buy special coffee beans at the same time traffic cams catch him driving his Ferrari in Brooklyn."

"So if a team of investigators and rabid fans can't find them, aren't they relatively safe from a lone gunman?" The woman's grin stayed fixed in place.

The agent was frustrated, "Just tell us this much: would they leave the country?"

"Of course they have the resources to leave the country. How would I know if they are out of the country now? I'm not the agency to ask about passport data."

"Damn it, don't play games." The shrewd agent, older and more seasoned, finally broke into the conversation.

"I'm not playing games." She turned her attention to the senior investigator and tested a more direct confrontation, "The longer I keep you talking the better my understanding of your motives for this information." Shaw had very little information to profile these men. Their connections were powerful, but their agenda was unclear. Were they working towards justice, hushing up the misdeeds of one of their own, or something in between? She pushed, "Maybe you just want to make a big splash and further your own careers."

The subordinate blanched but his training held him mute. The agent in charge needed Shaw to believe them. "If we let the wrong piece of information get out to the wrong person, the consequences are deadly. We're on _their_ side."

"Which side is that?" she challenged more than her words said.

He hedged, "Beckett and Castle."

The gray haired patriot was playing his cards close. Shaw was going to force his hand, "Sorry, Can't help. If you won't be honest about which side you want to succeed…"

An eyebrow raised. Finally the senior agent admitted, "We need their help and controlling Beckett is imperative."

"In other words, you're on **Castle's** side." Shaw had to be certain. This was critical. "Siding against an former NYPD officer of the law? If that ever comes to light it won't look good on the record."

The agent blanched at the accusation, "Don't patronize me. If I placed the selfish gains of my career above the greater good then I'd side with her instead. But the matter truly is larger than the murder of Johanna Beckett and I am seeking the only possible outcome even if it doesn't bring public closure for the families."

All pretense was cast aside and Shaw aligned with them, "What message do you want me to get to Castle?"

One agent breathed a sigh of relief; the other gave a faint gasp as the burden exchanged hands. Jordan scanned the information twice hoping she misread it. The business was located in Vietnam but the profits were routed to various countries and ultimately deposited in a branch in Dubai. That account was a dummy corporation called Williams & Brickman. (You didn't need to be a profiler to understand the audacity in that pseudonym.) The next page was genuine Department of State letterhead. It also started with the same overseas manufacturing company, then followed the bills of lading and shipping manifests to a known arms dealer. The final destination of the cargo was a foreign country ripe with unrest.

Shaw kept abreast of current affairs enough to know what this implied. She did a gut check. "I cannot believe releasing this information is sanctioned."

"If done quickly and quietly everyone higher up in the federal government wants to look the other way. As for being sanctioned, well, they all want plausible deniability."

Shaw was incredulous. "Richard Castle is the preferred messenger for this? How is he supposed to get this to the right people?"

"He already knows them. We verified the connection with Homeland Security Agent Mark Fallon."

Well, damn... Maybe she needed to rework her profile of Mr. Castle. Shaw squirmed at the thought of keeping Beckett in the dark, but the detective she worked with a few years ago would not give up control of a personal vendetta. On the other hand, the writer would love it: the Justice department was willing to accept an outcome which favored poetic justice instead of courtroom legalities.

* * *

Maddox was frustrated. Kate Beckett's resignation and abandoned apartment left few avenues to find the damn woman. He stopped by the dwelling at least 3 times a day and trained himself to notice the smallest details of change. The police tape still cordoned the door. The newspaper lay in the same position in the hall and a fiber he gently wedged in the door frame was undisturbed. Her mail was still in the box. The electronic trail was just as quiet. No credit cards or bank withdraws and no activity on her email accounts. Cole Maddox came outside and paused in a doorway across the street.

The mercenary pretended to glance at a newspaper while he scanned the area for anomalies. The usual assortment of residents were running around. The elderly woman who always spoke some Slovakian language shuffled back from the market, a purple haired twenty-something smoked a cigarette while she bobbed her head to unheard music, and the usual gaggle of children milled about with unemployed guardians who were too dissatisfied with their lives to notice the antics of the kids: the girl having her hair pulled by the bully until the tattle-tale ratted on the fat boy. _This is a waste of time. _He abruptly changed direction and started walking back to where he parked the dilapidated van.

_It won't be long until she shows up at the cemetery. Until she does I can study vantage points and escape routes. _His mental preoccupation might explain him running into the sleep-deprived business man frantic to get to his next appointment. Cole apologized but the New Yorker was already rambling away.

Maddox paused at the door to the vehicle. He almost forgot to check the smudge carefully left on the door handle. It was still there. Habit carried him through, but it didn't pay to get too sloppy; he might need that discipline on his next job. It seemed this one might be ending soon.

Maddox gave a perfunctory glance around and then flipped on the smart phone he pick-pocketed from the business man. He activated the web browsers and checked the web site for .

_Damn!_

This changed everything. He checked his watch. With traffic, he had maybe a 10 minute window of opportunity. He wiped the device clean and dropped the stolen phone out the window to the curb. He gunned the engine and cut off a taxi.

If Maddox had not blackened the back windows on the vehicle he might have seen the gum chopping, tattooed teen with a nose ring stop and scoop up the phone. But Maddox was too much in a hurry to circle the block like his tradecraft dictated and see the kid wait for a dark skinned ex military type. The man with the close cropped hair took the phone and cocked his head in puzzlement. Then he grabbed his own phone to report in. Cole Maddox didn't see any of it. He had to get to the penguin exhibit at the Bronx Zoo.


	16. Voids in Space

"Maddox's going after Nikki Heat! I'm too far away to stop him."

_What? _"Slow down, Esposito. Repeat what you just said."

"Cole Maddox went to the Bronx Zoo. The tracking device we have on his van confirmed it. Please tell me Beckett isn't at the Penguin House?"

"Huh? This does not make sense." Castle rubbed his temple cursing the poor quality of the cheap phones.

"It does if you know Nikki Heat is based on Beckett." Espo rambled assuming Castle still monitored his public persona. "You know: the photo shoot for Frozen Heat: A real live Nikki Heat at the penguin exhibit..."

Castle closed his eyes to concentrate. _Not possible. The inspiration for Nikki Heat was safely in the greenhouse._ _Did she run - sneak away without his knowledge? No! _He cast his mind to a snippet of conversation with Gina about publicity. _Something about a Nikki Heat photograph… _The model who posed for the cover art was technically a real _live_ Nikki Heat - not the real _life _Nikki Heat.

"Of course she's not there. Who in there right mind would think Beckett would agree to a Nikki Heat photo session?"

"Someone who's studied her background and knows she used to model. Someone who knows she's quit her job and thinks she may need money."

_Shit. Shit. Shit! _Javier was right. Maddox knew _about _Beckett; he didn't know Beckett. "Please tell me your buddy is on the way there?"

"Don't have time; the thing is ending. Gotta hope he takes one look at this chick and our killer knows it's not Beckett."

Another snippet nagged at Castle from that conversation. Frozen Heat... **Blue**. Gina was going to paint the model blue. Castle knew the measurements of the cover model were close to Beckett's. (She'd lost weight since the shooting, but the model started out thinner than Kate because the camera lens adds pounds.) A blue Nikki Heat at an official Black Pawn function might just be enough to make a desperate Maddox jump to conclusions. They might have put an innocent woman at risk.

* * *

The dire circumstances had them shouting at each other. "Espo can round up guys and go get her. We know where Maddox is taking her."

"No! We phone an anonymous tip to the FBI hostage team and let them go in." They glared at each other, frustrated with not being in sync (and battling to preserve their control of the aftermath.)

Castle hoped a neutral party could break the stalemate so he typed the quick plea: "Dark Pawn takes blue queen. Next move? Take Black King? End Game? Urgent!"

Agent Jordan Shaw knew immediately who the text was from. She had a moment of panic worried that the person taken was Rick's daughter. Once the agent remembered his family had red hair, she breathed a fraction easier. She postponed the game-changing message from the DOJ; it was too daunting to mix with the immediate alarm. Shaw identified with the unknown "blue" captive and quickly worded her response: "Go green. Other moves coming soon."

The duo stared in unison at the cryptic reply. Castle nodded in agreement and Beckett shook her head in dissent. "No way. If Maddox can take Espo he can take Ryan."

"Ryan is tougher and smarter than you give him credit for." Castle's fondness for this Irish detective was unwavering.

Kate bristled, "Hey, I trust Kevin with my life and to have my back no matter what the costs. I also trust my instincts which say that sending him in to handle Maddox alone is a suicide mission because he can't ask for backup without Gates handing it off to the local precinct. I won't force him into another no-win situation."

Castle mulled over the predicament. If they let another division of the NYPD handle it then potential evidence might be lost because the responding officers are clueless. If they sound the alarm and have a full swat team descend on the scene then Bracken's informers will know they're coming. Let Esposito do it? Or trust Ryan? Their advantage was fleeting and the careful deliberation of the duo was ticking precious seconds off the clock. "We trust Agent Shaw and she says to trust Ryan." Rick's finger didn't hesitate as he hit the speed dial and handed the phone to Beckett.

The call from an unknown number was answered immediately and a clipped tone barked out, "Detective Ryan speaking."

"This is an anonymous caller with a tip about a missing woman who is being held by a bastard named Maddox."

A sharp breath betrayed Kevin as weighed the words. Of course he recognized Beckett's voice and she was MIA, but her tone didn't indicate she was in danger. This was the first contact from her since she walked out of the precinct without a backwards glance. "Need more info," he demanded.

Beckett felt the guilt wash over her. She wanted to tell Kevin why she had to leave him in the dark and regroup. She wanted to tell him he was right and she was grateful for his actions that day. She wanted to apologize for the rift with Javier, but there wasn't time. And cops didn't get sentimental so opted for facts. "The hired goon mistook a photo shoot of a real _live_ Nikki Heat for the real _life_ Nikki Heat. Once the blue body paint comes off he will realize his mistake he'll kill the model. She's being held in a deserted warehouse by the expressway at exit 47."

A few beats of silence passed as the detective considered the woman's peril, Beckett's situation, and his options. Fortunately he was already out of the 12th running down other leads so he whipped his car west and sped towards the warehouse. "Okay, I'll take care of it." He didn't elaborate. No other words were forthcoming.

"I'm sorry..." If Beckett wasn't a cop anymore, she could drop the tough shell. "And thank you - for the helping _hand_ last week." It was as much as she dared say to Ryan when his minded needed to be elsewhere. "You were smart and kept us all safe. I trust you to do it again."

The knot in his gut eased a little. "I'm a simple guy. Right vs. wrong. Good triumphs over evil. Anyway, I've got this," and the called ended.

No fear. No hesitation. He carried a shield of quiet strength that Beckett admired. Maybe it was his faith that made him stronger or his marriage that made him careful. Damn she missed Kevin Ryan. Agent Shaw was right: in a battle of wills she'd put her money on Ryan. All that remained was the fight: Maddox vs. Honeymilk.


	17. HoneyMilk vs Maddox

It all came down to managing expectations.

Kevin Ryan's mind buzzed with the agendas - expectations - of his day, his time, his priorities. His wife wanted him to finish painting the bathroom. (He refused to call it a 'powder room.' Even he had some hard limits.) Captain Gates wanted the "Beckett mess" cleaned up within 30 days. Esposito wanted a partner who was blindly loyal. Castle wanted the underdog to win because it made a better story. Then there was Beckett. Since the day he first teamed up with her she had made one demand of him: she wanted his best. His best effort, sharpest skills, fiercest determination to bring the truth to light. He loved that about Beckett.

He'd known Kate Beckett longer than his betrothed. He'd faced death with her, saved her and been saved by her. He'd gotten drunk with her and even met famous people because of her (including one of his "freebie fives"). He spent countless hours with her and knew her vulnerabilities and strengths. Yeah, he loved his wife but a part of him had a teeny tiny crush on the former detective. So even without the loyalty due to his former boss, Ryan was going to find a way to come through for her.

A desolate building with trash scattered around the lot was the initial glimpse from the expressway. It was just another forgotten corner of a collapsing economy. Ryan expected the warehouse to be under surveillance. Maddox was well financed and electronic countermeasures allowed him to be more covert. The detective would have to find a way around that later. Right now he observed from a discreet distance that didn't alert anyone to his presence. The puddle of rainwater betrayed a single vehicle entered the warehouse recently. That boded well. He calculated an acceptable risk and dismissed a need for backup. He nudged the steering wheel and veered off down the street and back to the gas station at the exit.

He parked the cop car and grabbed his duffle bag from the trunk. Then law enforcement official steeled his nerves at the most daunting part of his quickly hatched plan. He entered the grimy men's room, touching as little as possible. He balanced in the center of the space wobbling as he stripped off his detective clothing, trying not to grimace at the dirty mirror, dripping water, and littered floor. He read the graffiti on the walls to distract himself from the stench of mold and human excrement. Quickly he pulled out the rumpled garb from painting. It was a mixed blessing that Javier wasn't around to tease him about the lavender splatters liberally covering his Hobbit t-shirt and torn jeans. Dirty sneakers and a ratty ball cap completed the transformation. He flinched while touching the doorknob and gulped in air once freed from the germ fest.

Only then did he venture inside to buy his booze - cheap with a high percentage of alcohol. On a whim he added cigarettes and a lighter. Smoking was great cover. He used to smoke when he worked narcotics. Drug users were blissfully unconcerned with health hazards and Kevin smoked his filtered menthols that disguised his feisty nature and law enforcement stereotype. Giving up caffeine was much harder. He added a large cup of coffee and paid for his purchases.

Yeah, it came down to managing expectations. The confident detective was gone and in his place was a small man who appeared to be down on his luck. Sean (he decided that was his undercover name for this op) tossed his nice clothes in the trunk (Jenny would nag him when they come home rumpled ) and dumped his wallet and service weapon. (Never mind where his badge was hidden.) Then he stuffed the duffle with the tattered blanket (stakeouts were brutal at night in the dead of winter. Even his tough partner had caved and used it on a few occasions.) He poured the fresh coffee into his battered stainless steel travel cup and set off at a brisk pace down the road.

His gait slowed in front of the warehouse and the lightly built male fumbled with the contents of his pockets, bag, and coffee cup. A natural awkwardness tangled his movements resulting in stuff spilling at his feet. In exasperation he scooped up the contents and headed to the abandoned building to regroup. Instead of worrying about how to get around any surveillance in place, he prayed Maddox was watching.

It was all about managing expectations.

Sean (aka Ryan) let a frustrated kick at loose cigarettes, spilled coffee, and dropped bottle of whiskey. He snagged a white cancer stick that threatened to roll away and secured it in his lips. He patted down his pockets looking for the lighter and failed to come up with it. He gave a disgusted shake of his head and bent over to continue the search. Out came the blanket and it was tossed aside. The duffle was upended allowing the remaining items to fall free. (And showed anyone that was watching that there were no weapons in sight.) A crumpled dollar bill, a handful of coins, and the small black lighter tumbled free. God how he hoped he timed this right. The paper money flittered in the breeze and he stayed hunched over to halt its bid for freedom. (It also kept him appearing small and vulnerable. It was too hard to disguise the look in a man's eyes and Ryan wanted to protract the ruse as long as possible.) A faint noise rewarded his ears and he filled his lungs with a calming deep breath as he waited for Maddox to make his appearance.

Sean, the-out-of-work-painter, occupied himself with picking up the scattered coins and tossing them back into the duffle bag. He pretended to be startled when a pair of black military style boots entered his field of vision. He froze to keep from looking up. Ryan succeeded in drawing him out, but the next move belonged to the trained killer. He desperately hoped Maddox wasn't a first strike kind of guy.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" The menacing voice froze the small excuse of a man. Cole Maddox didn't have time for interruptions. He'd been running vagrants and drug users out of the area for a week. It was a fine line to scare them away without calling too much attention to himself. Right now was not the time to test if the sound proofing was sufficient to muffle cries of help. It was only a matter of time before the bitch got the duct tape off her mouth and started screaming for backup and Maddox needed to move this cocksucker on his way.

"Here. Take it." The dollar bill and change were offered up by the pathetic little wimp.

"Get lost, now!" Maddox went to knock the money aside and haul the man up.

Instead a force tumbled Maddox forward. Belatedly he noted he was being flipped over the smaller man's feet while his hands were ensnared by a strong grip that kept him from rolling through the move. He landed badly on a shoulder and on his head. The black ops veteran felt searing pain in his head and awareness threatened to fall away.

Ryan pulled his backup gun from the ankle holster and stood a calculated distance from Maddox. He waited for the prone assassin's eyes to clear and then confirmed the situation, "NYPD. You are under arrest for the attempted murder of detective Kate Beckett."

Cole Maddox tried to blink away the rush of adrenaline and contemplated his situation. How had this little shit had gotten the drop on him? Despite the pounding in his head he evaluated possible responses. Better test the boundaries of this guy. Maddox was a pro at turning a cop's strength into their weakness. The Hispanic cop thought he was so strong and he went down quickly. The target - the female cop- her tenacity kept her coming back for a beating that was actually fun to deliver. This little guy's strength was his mind. Time to turn that around.

The soulless man scanned the immediate area. "No backup? That works in my favor."

"Don't move. Backup is on the way." Ryan lied.

"Not true. My informant would tell me if you called in this destination. You are going renegade just like your former buddies. You'll end up just like them." He watched the startled reaction and chalked up his first victory at undercutting the cop. Maddox began tentative movements shaking his head and checking for blood.

Ryan forced himself to ignore the possibility that Maddox was bluffing about knowing he never called in to the 12th. He had to subdue this guy verbally if he was going to be taken alive. "I called my partner. He has extra free time these days. He's on his way."

"Again with the lies. You two haven't spoken since he left." Maddox wasn't sure that part was still true and the detective wasn't giving anything away. Maddox decided to speed up his gambit. Slowly he started turning over, staying on the ground, twisting from laying on his back to laying on his front. He kept his hands in plain view, not giving his opponent any reason to shoot him.

"Freeze!" Ryan was reeling from how much insider information this bastard had. In spite of himself his gut clenched and a dread settled in his heart that Beckett was right - there were other dirty cops still working for the dragon. "Lay still or I will shoot!"

"An empty threat. This encounter is being recorded by my surveillance gear. So far it looks like a vagrant is trying to mug me. You don't look like a cop and you've never pulled out a badge." Maddox slowly, ever so carefully shifted up so he was now down on all fours, resting on his hands and knees.

Ryan blinked. Shit, Maddox did have a point. The NYPD detective wondered if he should struggle out his badge from its hiding place. _Yeah, right - reaching inside my pants towards my crotch would look all kinds of wrong on the video tape._

"You can't shoot me now." Maddox chided. "Unless you want your career to be over - disgraced - like your other 2 partners. You can't shoot me in the back." He let a chuckle escape to unsettle the man's mind.

The detective shook off the distractions and carefully watched the most minute of actions. "Stop! I'm NYPD. Stay down on the ground. Last chance."

"Indeed it is." Maddox still was on his knees, but he shifted his body so his weight was off one arm. He dipped his head to hide the reach of his hand inside the shirt towards his shoulder holster. He carefully pulled the gun free he aimed it backwards, under his arm and towards the cop.

A shot rang out. The sound was swallowed up by the nearby highway and empty building.

Detective Ryan watched the dark red stain blend into the black shirt of the man on the ground. The cop kept his finger poised over the trigger ready to fire another round as he used his foot to nudge the body over.

The lifeless body still clutched the weapon. Kevin shook his head at the futile turn of events. Why did people underestimate him? Did Maddox really think he didn't know he had a gun and was going to shoot? Did he really think that after this man beat Esposito and Beckett that he wasn't going to be treated with extreme caution? Ryan _expected_ the man to be a lethal opponent. Too bad Cole Maddox didn't _expect_ the same from him. Also unlike Maddox, Ryan's aim was perfect. Cole Maddox had a bullet in his heart and no one was stopping to perform CPR and rush him into surgery. Expectations be damned.

Kevin Ryan, detective of the 12th precinct, turned away from the dead sniper. Honeymilk had a hostage to find.


	18. Iron Gates

Everyone in the bullpen scattered when the captain started yelling. Ryan was seething, ice blue eyes ready to boil and blow without warning. Gates was giving him an ass chewing for not calling in the location. The warehouse was out of their district and she suspected she had another renegade cop on her hands.

"Don't hide behind this anonymous call. We both know **they** are out there working the case and you are feeding them information."

"Esposito has not spoken to or contacted me since his suspension. Former Detective Beckett is gone - left the city. You got your way."

Gate gave a warning look at Ryan at his tone. Right now she needed to know what he wasn't saying. "You went to a location to confront a sniper. **Alone. **You constructed an elaborate ruse to draw him out and **kill** him. You got your **payback**- killed the man who allegedly shot Beckett. How did you know he was there and why did you not call in your location per my standing **orders**?"

"I went there to check out an anonymous tip that a person matching his description was seen in that building."

"Why did you go alone?

"Because you have me working the case alone." Ryan tapped down a spike of rage at this woman.

"Why didn't you call in the location?"

"Because I have reason to suspect there are dirty cops feeding the other side information."

"Why didn't you call me directly then?"

"Because I think you may be one of them."

Silence echoed off the walls.

"Do you want to repeat what you just said?" That tone warned him to reconsider his hastily spoken words.

Detective Ryan repeated in a low clear voice, "I think you may be on the take. Or at least working with those who put their own agenda ahead of justice."

Finally Gates got over the stunning accusation to respond, "I'll overlook that because of the stress you're under, but it is no defense against failing to follow orders."

"I have proof."

"What?" Victoria Gates thundered. "Impossible!"

Ryan let his accusation stand. He didn't back down from Maddox. He wasn't backing down from Gates. This was probably as close as he'd get to interrogate her.

Captain Gates rationalized her subordinate's behavior. "You can't have proof because it isn't true. You're trying to make me go easy on you."

_Like I would put career ahead of justice and loyalty and righteousness. _He ached for the missing members of his team that puzzled out the messy evil in this world. He let loose a morsel of information, "When I went into the warehouse I cleared the area. The only other person there was the hostage, but I couldn't get her out of the container she was locked in. I searched for the key but didn't find it. I did find something else. The place was really dirty which was great because it showed me everyplace the perp went in the building. There was an interior office where he kept going over to an empty corner. I checked it out and found his hiding spot. There were 3 folders. Once was a log of activities and surveillance. The next folder was labeled Threats and had dossiers on Beckett and Castle. The last one was Assets and had a few notes and pictures in it. You're in that one." His anger made him pour salt on the wound: "The sniper has you as an asset and Beckett as a threat."

Gates blinked. That seemed to be the only part of her body still working. She forced herself to breath and stared mutely at Ryan.

After another minute of silence the NYPD detective continued, "I bagged those 2 folder into evidence. I snapped copies of the files with my phone in case they end up missing. No, I will not turn over the Assets folder. I've hidden it. My wife is leaving town even as we speak because I fear for her life. I know I'm a target now but so help me God I will see this through."

The captain was incredulous. "I don't know how this happened or what they've done. For whatever it is worth I'm not corrupt."

Silence. He stared her down.

"I would offer to open an Internal Affairs investigation, but since I used to work with them I can see that wouldn't appear to be impartial. Tell me who Beckett trusts and I'll ask for their help."

Kevin snorted a laugh. "Tell you who she trusts so they can be eliminated or compromised? No way. You want my trust? Prove yourself."

"Just how am I supposed to do that?"

"Hand over the key. I don't want you to remove whatever is inside before I see it." Detective Ryan watched this cop very carefully.

If she was acting she was good. It was the second time her features registered surprise. Of course it could be the reaction was from being caught when she felt she was in the clear now that Beckett was gone.

"What key?" the captain husked out. She never - _never_ had to endure such scrutiny - especially from a subordinate.

"In the magnetic holder on the back of the file cabinet. Or so the file claims." It was the first chance to see if the information was even partially true.

With grace that masked the unsteady hand she groped behind the tall metal unit. It took several seconds but a thunk resounded in the office. Victoria Gates slide open the holder and withdrew a key. Her eyes were wide as she asked, "What does it go to?"

"You tell me."

"I don't know. You seem to know more than I do." The dynamic had fundamentally shifted: Ryan held the cards and Victoria Gates had no chips to bet. "How am I involved in any of this?"

"You've got 9 cash payouts from this locker and you use them to pay for your mother's care at the Alzheimer's facility. In return you keep an eye on Beckett or push her trying to get her to break. I wonder if your payouts will stop since you were successful and she quit."

"NO!" She slumped back down in her seat. "I mean no- I have never in my life taken payoffs. Yes, I manage the funds that pay for my mother's assisted living care." Gates truly was bewildered. Who planted the key-in the _captain's _office in a _police_ precinct? What else is in that file? She shook her head. "How did this happen? I am a high ranking police official with a spotless record."

"It is sooo much bigger than you." Yeah, Ryan just called his captain a pawn. He knew he was a mere bit player going against a powerful beast. In all the mythology he remembered as a child the mere mortals got fried by dragons breathing fire.

The captain stood up, finally having a thread to grasp. "Exactly! They went after the mayor and he was clean but they still smeared his good name!"

That thought gave the detective pause.

Gates was grasping at a straw. "I'm going to go see his Honor and ask if he'll set up a secret task force. I want you on it. You'll report only to him; not to me." The woman pointed her finger at Ryan and backed up her words with a glare.

That was unexpected. It also made sense. Ryan saw the need for an umbrella of authority to keep this from turning into a vendetta by renegade cops financed by a mystery writer. He shook his head in remorse at the loss of his neatly ordered world. "Your enemy's enemies are your friends."

Gates forged on, "Beckett is not the enemy - her headstrong and reckless disregard is. Meanwhile see if you can establish communication with her and Castle. I don't want to risk their safety, but they obviously need to be in on this. Maybe since you killed Maddox they can return - to the city. It's not my decision to make, but it would be helpful if a secure channel of communication was available." She cocked her head waiting in no man's land, her fate teetering between rogue cops and crooked power players.

Ryan committed to nothing. "I suggest you start yelling again. Whoever is watching needs to report back that I am on a short leash and you are pissed off."

Iron Gates had no problem with that.


	19. Graves & Gravity

Computer generated photos of a cemetery covered the table in the command center. The first picture showed a word sprayed on the granite headstone: C-U-N and a nearby chunk with the missing T. Where green grass once grew puddles of red liquid pooled on the flat ground. The mocking outline of a sprawled body sprayed in white paint was further marred by a hole dug where the heart would be.

Besides the photos were dozens of used tissues. Someone had cried - sobbed - as evidenced by the empty box. A single sheet of wadded up paper was on the floor. "_Did you know about this, hide this from me…"_ was scrawled with an unsteady hand before it was ripped, crumpled and abandoned.

Castle felt the sting of emotions. Yes, he kept secrets but this? Did she really think he'd lay with her at night and lie (by omission) during the day? Did she really think he hadn't learned his lesson that Kate was in charge of all things concerning Johanna? Even if the new lovers reached an understanding as evidenced by the unopened NYPD file it was symbolic. He knew Beckett was in charge. He also knew Kate was gone. Even before this was discovered Beckett planned on going to the city because of yesterday's developments.

Lanie had Maddox on ice so it was safe (for the moment) to sneak back to the city. Castle knew he was too high profile to risk slipping into city hall unrecognized. Mayor Weldon was forming a task force to fight "government corruption" and they needed guidance to avoid anyone ensnared by the dragon lair. Castle's guy hacked the offshore account and compiled a list of names - people receiving payouts from Bracken. The file had to stay in Beckett's procession - away from the legitimate investigation. They just needed reassurance on who could be trusted so they could pursue evidence legally that would stand up in court. Besides, Castle had to search for background information on the people - where they worked, lived and why they were useful to the other side. They agreed he stay in the shadows and let her make the next move alone. Beckett was in control.

The Medical Examiner was conveniently backlogged and unable to find the time to ID the body, so there was no public disclosure of Maddox's death. The Nikki Heat model was safe - and happily paid for not sharing her abduction with the media. The cops from the other precinct knew Ryan from his days with narcotics and kept quiet. All Beckett had to do was check over the proposed members on the task force, copy the evidence from Maddox and take a quick meeting Ryan set up. Kate would be back in no time…

Castle had to believe - to trust- she'd come back.

He shook off the fear nagging at the edge of his imagination and checked his own email and text messages.

_What the hell? _Castle puzzled out the meaning behind the message. "_Shaw consulted me. Higher ups don't want a dragon setting things on fire. Poetic justice advised. Use unorthodox contacts AGAIN. Good luck- Fallon_." The creator of CIA operative Derrick Storm perused the documents and felt the enormity of the plot. Words left the writer. Only emotions and blackness and implications engulfed him.

He forgot to breathe. A desperate gasp sucked air into his lungs and, just for a moment, he wished this didn't fall to him to decide. _Kate is in charge… _He repeated the mantra over and over in his mind to quiet the story lines currently twisting in his gut. One phone call, recommended by 2 federal agents they trusted wanted him to do this. _Kate is in charge… _He could end it now. Bracken would be the hunted man facing disgrace or worse. But ending the dragon's reign at what cost? He might just loose Kate. _Beckett is in charge… _

He shook his head, cried a desperate, "No!" even without anyone to hear his single plea. The temptation nagged at him. The implications for their future tugged at his heart. _Kate is in charge… _He promised her time; he promised her options; he promised to be her partner. So long as they did it together, he promised to do her bidding. To renege on her plan to try to trap the Senator was to overthrow everything he promised her. Maddox was history and it was the third henchman that had been eliminated. _(But how many more were waiting? How long before the odds shifted irrevocably against us or Beckett got restless directing from the shadows?)_

Kate is in charge…

The author respected the vow Beckett made to bring her mother's killer to justice. To interfere with that was paramount to treason. If it was just a matter of ending William Bracken that was easy. Castle could afford to hire a hit man and he had the mob connections to pull it off. It wasn't the morality keeping him from doing it, the empty gnawing of failure that Kate would feel was enough to keep the dark desire from being made manifest. This option, "the Fallen/Yusef* Solution," was only slightly better. There might be poetic justice letting Bracken's misdeeds catch up with him, but it would never bring solace to a victim's daughter. Kate would never be able to bring herself to choose this option. That's why they sent the message to him - not to Beckett.

Richard Castle may not ever solve the depths of the woman he loved, but he knew enough to choose to have her alive and hating him instead of hating herself, or worse, dead. He promised to always have her back and this honored that promise.

Kate wasn't in charge anymore.

* * *

_*Author's note: the 2-part episode with Homeland Security Agent Mark Fallon during season 3 introduced Fariq Yusef, a member of the Syrian secret police._

* * *

The subdued brunette stood in line at a street vendor's cart across from City Hall. "2 chili cheese dogs with the works." She handed over the cash and walked away with her food. She juggled it and a cup of coffee and ignored another call from Castle. Guilt nagged at her for avoiding his calls but she had her hands full at the moment. A burly Hispanic man waited at the crosswalk and she handed over one of the sloppy concoctions. "I got onions on them. Wanted to make sure you kept your distance. I know how much you've missed me."

Esposito snorted. "Yeah, I'm known for being a sappy kind of guy." He wolfed down the hotdog in 3 bites and licked his fingers clean, elbowing Beckett in the process. He was so damned relieved to see a grin tug at her despite the circumstances.

"1204," she murmured and nodded for him to go ahead. She detoured around to a different door finishing the unhealthy lunch and balancing all organic goodness Alexis fed them the past week. Beckett blended in with the masses of office workers in a generic skirt, flats, and simple black top. The former detective reached the conference room a few minutes later and eavesdropped outside the door.

Ryan was conciliatory towards his once and future partner, "I heard you had Maddox on an electronic leash - GPS, surveillance photos of him, and a recording device in his hotel. Damn, to outwit a pro like that… I'd love to hear the details?" his voice trailed off hopefully.

Esposito responded begrudgingly, "Yeah, well, you took out Maddox single handed? Shit, he got the drop on me and Beckett. Damn, bro!" There was no mistaking the pride in his voice.

Kevin needed more, "All's well that ends well?"

Javier feigned reluctance as he held out his fingers, wiggled them.

His partner eagerly finished the gesture and "fed the birds;" the family reconnected.

Beckett breathed a sigh of relief and cleared her throat to announce herself to the team.

Esposito smirked as he warned Ryan, "Don't get near her. She had onions on her chili cheese dog. God knows what the beans will do to her if she sticks around. She always blamed the smell on Castle, but who knows?"

It felt like old times. "Just because I'm wearing a skirt doesn't mean I can't make you feel pain." She finished it off with a roll of her eye and wished she could snark at them more, but the clock was ticking. She jerked her head at the inner door. "Who's in there?"

Ryan handed her a list and she compared it to the names in her file. The clerk for the judge (and his honor who was in court today) were both clean. The assistant DA with political aspirations was okay. This assistant of Weldon's was old and trusted and also not part of the network. The Congressional Ethics officer's name wasn't found but Beckett still didn't trust someone without a bonafide stake in the game. Nevertheless Weldon called him in wanting someone from the federal level to participate, so she didn't balk.

"Okay. These name look good." Beckett pinned Ryan with a hard stare. "Good news; bad news… Gates isn't on the list. The payouts to her just transferred in one lump sum and then got divided up to look like they happened over the last 9 months. Someone is trying to make her look dirty but she isn't. The bad news is someone else at the 12th is. Also a cop at the evidence storage facility is on the take. I don't want to give you names because I don't want you doing things differently. Even without knowing who it is you'll be subconsciously be compensating. I don't want to tip our hand - yet."

Kevin huffed out a few choice words. He battled with himself then let it go. It would be worth it to see the look on Gate's face when he tells her that Beckett vouched for the captain. "I suppose I can keep up the act that I'm wary of Gates and in the doghouse so everyone else should stay away from me." He shrugged it off and transferred copies of the Maddox files to Beckett.

"What's the next move?" Esposito was itching for a new challenge now that Maddox was history.

Of course Beckett was in charge. "We get ready. Ryan goes into this meeting and figures out a strategy based on the cards that are showing. Castle peeks at the ones face down." Beckett paused at the mention of Rick. If she talked to him she'd crack - break down over the violation and outrage clenched around her heart. He was the only one who could sooth the crushing new round of injustice and she wasn't ready to deal with it - any of it. She shook it off.

She compartmentalized, "Bracken has a trip scheduled to NYC in 24 hours. Javi is going to study his schedule Let's be ready."

"What are you doing?"

"I have a meeting with God. I'm going to call his bluff."


	20. Vows

Detective Kevin Ryan brokered a meeting that offered to ensnare the dragon, put the dead to rest, let the living come back to life. Beckett navigated the worn linoleum and shivered at the hospital smells threatening to drag her back in time. The medical center she had surgery in was a modern marvel compared to the reek from this VA fortress of sacrifice.

It was a surprise to enter the counseling wing and find a posh ambience soothing away the triggers. A delicate aroma of vanilla replaced antiseptic. A gurgling fountain trickled down a wall and flowed into a miniature stream that traipsed through the center of the room. She studied the clear acrylic as she passed over and startled at the fish darting away. _Goldfish? Koi? _

A sign gave her options. The interfaith chapel was to the right. A touch pad allowed the user to choose religious images to project on the walls for each of the major faiths. Straight ahead was an empty meeting room with chairs grouped into a circle. Beckett frowned at the only remaining option being the office for private counseling. The video display listed Father Ernesto on duty.

A voiced called out from the room, "Katherine Beckett?"

She entered reluctantly. Beckett evaluated the battered old man imprisoned by the wheelchair. He maneuvered slowly but with an ease that spoke of the years his disability was with him. She didn't offer her hand to shake; she didn't want him to have to shuck off the gloves that kept calluses from building on his hands or feel awkward for ignoring the old world protocol and keep them on. She wasn't intimidated by the holy garb but she did bow to the man's history - the abuse and evil suffered as a POW. "Thank you so much for coming forward. Helping us."

His eyes narrowed and his tone had an edge, "Miss Beckett, let's be very clear. I am not here to help you. I am here as God's representative in the ongoing battle of good and evil." He waved her to a seat and pressed a button sliding the office door shut.

"Of course, you are bound by covenants that prevent any disclosure. So…" She stared hard, narrowing her eyes, evaluating the wizened gray haired man nearing the end of his days of service on this earth.

"You still haven't decided to take me up on my offer?"

Beckett was trying to evaluate, even interrogate the man's motivation. "Offering yourself as bait? Letting it be known you heard the sordid tale from Montgomery before his death but leave out the part where it was his last confession? If you position yourself as a threat to the Senator you think he will come after you personally because you are too weak to defend yourself." She shook her head.

"I'm not weak! I _appear_ defenseless." The aged hands fumbled in the bag hanging over the side of the wheelchair. He grasped a small pistol by the barrel but it slipped from his gloved fingers and skittered away.

After calming her initial reaction to the appearance of a firearm, she grimaced at the hopeless scene. How to disabuse this man of the notion he was safe with a gun and still keep the man's pride intact? The former cop scooped up the small pistol and checked the weapon. The safety was on and there was no round in the chamber but the gun was loaded. It was a common 22 caliber like countless others she came across at crime scenes. She paused with it still in her possession.

"I've never met a priest with a gun before."

"Catholics are not pacifists like the Amish and some other religions."

Kate startled at the reference. _Does he know where I'm hiding? _She searched his features and saw something she didn't like, but wasn't sure what it was. "I'd like to put the weapon out of reach and in plain sight while we talk."

The Father nodded. "I don't want to execute Senator Bracken- that would be a violation of my vows. I believe you will be in control even if unseen." He watched her shove a box of tissues out of the way and put it carefully on a side table away from his desk. She took a seat and kept her features carefully masked.

She continued in a halting ramble, "It's unlikely Bracken will make time to meet with you and even if he did it is unlikely the Senator would say anything incriminating."

"With just a few key phrases he will be too concerned not to meet with me immediately - and without witnesses."

Beckett continued to try to talk the old man out of the foolish gambit. "Unless Bracken actually makes a move to harm you there is no reason to arrest him. If he wants to hurt you there is no guarantee we can stop him in time. He hires others to do his killing for him and you wouldn't see it coming."

"I am aware my death my result from my participation. I will sign any waivers necessary to absolve you of liability much like Mr. Richard Castle has done." He cocked his head, poking at her history. "You've done the same. Rushed heedlessly into danger under the moral imperative of bringing the true culprit of your mother's murderer to justice."

Beckett didn't respond.

The man in black tried another track, "Everyone has their breaking point. I am intimate with human fragility and I know what crushes human spirit. I can make him snap." Anyone looking into his eyes would believe him.

"I made a promise… a vow to…" Kate stopped then started again, "Your vows prevent you from taking your own life. My Catholic colleague argues this is suicide mission. You can't reveal anything you heard in confession; you can't knowingly put yourself in a situation where you will be killed. You can't do this - morally."

"Don't lecture me on my commitment, my vows. I have a Ph.D. in theology and psychology." The priest shook a finger at her. "You surprise me. Why aren't you eager for this chance? Regardless of the outcome it puts you ahead of where you are now."

"At best it is a waste of time; at worst it's lethal. That price is too high; the risk too great. Thank you, but no further help is necessary." It felt good. Without Castle's love she wouldn't have the strength to walk away. The temptation would have been too great. She smiled kindly at the old man.

"What? No! You cannot summarily dismiss me. I've followed this battle since before you were a cop and nothing but a rebellious youth." He huffed and sputtered and grew more determined as he took in her calm demeanor and patronizing smirk. "You have no idea how widespread the players. How much you are missing. Yes, you were handed answers from the grave by your mentor, Mr. Montgomery, who spent a lifetime trying to atone for his spectacular sin, but you've missed the point. Yes, your mother was killed, but you still fail to understand **her sin **and it will remain on your head…"

Katherine Beckett narrowed her eyes and set her jaw. She wouldn't let this man, even a priest, highjack her mother's legacy. "We're done here."

"No we are not done!"

She made it to the door before he blurted out, "Bracken has a counterpart."

Beckett paused. In spite of her resolve her feet remained rooted to the floor and her hand fumbled at the closed (locked?) door.

"William's money - the payoffs are the carrots, but the _stick_ comes first. What makes his pawns susceptible to his lure? How does evil know to wrap its tendril around a seemingly innocent soul? You overlooked the fundamental essence of the fight: the battle between good and evil." She was wavering. Ensnared by the story in spite of her convictions, so he loosed more intrigue, "They aren't co-conspirators; William's counterpart has a different agenda but they use each other for their own purpose."

A slump of her shoulders admitted defeat and Beckett turned around and faced the priest. All she could do was wait for his agenda to play out.

"As long as you are up, would you mind fixing me a cup of tea? Please help yourself to a cup of specialty coffee." He waited to see if she was ready to follow his lead, to do his bidding. It wasn't working out as hoped, but it could still turn out as planned. He rolled himself out from behind the desk and waited.

She stepped over to the single serve machine and found only 1 type of tea surrounded by mocha, French vanilla, dark roasts, cinnamon, and a dozen other varieties of coffee. She kept her back to him while trying to wrap her mind around a compatriot fighting Bracken.

"I know how much officers love their coffee." The priest shucked off his gloves and thumbed through a file on the desk while he waited.

The inane small talk and movements gave her time to settle down and she tried to get back on his good side. "I'm surprised by the variety of coffee you have. Actually, I am surprised by how high-tech everything is in here." She handed him his tea and waited for her coffee to cycle through the machine. Visually she confirmed the small pistol was laying in the same position by the box of tissues where she left it.

"A very generous sponsor made a large contribution last year. The renovations were just completed."

Beckett ignored his eagerness to tell her more and took her coffee back to her seat, pointedly remaining quiet.

When she didn't break under the silence he resumed his tale, "The kidnapping of mobsters - evildoers - was divine retribution. It was holy providence that Mr. Pulgotti was imprisoned for murder. Your mother inserted herself in a battle without the blessing or protection of angels which left her at the mercy of demons and the dragon."

The former detective clenched her eyes shut and forced a deep breath into her lungs. This vindictive, broken man was extracting his pound of flesh and she had to endure if she wanted a drop of blood that lead to this other shadow. "Don't you dare! I will not sit here and listen to you try to blame my mother for trying to get an innocent man freed who was wrongfully convicted because of dirty cops."

"I am biased by my beliefs so _innocence_ has a different connotation for me. Even by your standards we both know Mr. Pulgotti is not an innocent man. He murdered men, even if not directly responsible for this particular killing. Johanna was actually warned of the consequences of proceeding and choose to ignore them as idle threats."

"Damn you," she swore at the clergyman. Johanna's daughter had steel in her spine and ice running through her veins.

"Still, it remains a fact that your mother received notice of a threat to her life and she chose to dismiss it and proceed with her investigation into Mr. Pullgotti's conviction." He wheeled himself towards her, closing in on her with his actions and words. "Don't you see? She pushed ahead when she should have retreated. You do the same. The sin of the mother is visited on the head of the daughter."

The Beckett glare accompanied her reply, "Tell me the bastard's name - this other person. We have nothing else to discuss."

"Damn it, Katherine!" He stopped to pin her with an anguished look "It is your turn to journey into the wilderness. The testing every soul must undergo. Just as our Savior was tempted, so must each soul face their desires and choose. It's time to choose, Katherine."

"What kind of fucked up man are you?"

"You are lost and wavering. I can help. Will you keep your vow to bring your mother's killer to justice or prove your love for Richard by letting it go? You can't choose both."

"Go to hell."

"Katherine, your choice? Which desire of your heart should be fulfilled?"


	21. Sins

Kate Beckett stared. She continued to stare at him, forcing her mind from his agenda to the meaning of his words. Assessing just how much he knew. Realizing how long he knew it. He knew of a threat to her mom's life? He knew of the kidnappings? Pulgotti's innocence? He knew since the beginning… "**You** are his partner…"

"**No! **I am not his partner. I am his counterpart." The man dressed in black under the guise of holiness banished to the sidelines of life and bound to a chair spat out the clarification with vehemence.

She openly gaped at his admission. "Semantics. I'll be sure to tell Castle. He may appreciate the distinction, but I don't give a damn."

He released his first smile of the day. He was a good listener. He let her get the rage out.

His expression made her snap back, "Got a savior complex? Are you enjoying this? Watching Bracken strike down the strong so you can comfort the fallen? You can't stand everyone else going on with their lives. You feel the ravages of time. You watch the slow decline of the Church and your personal sacrifice is reduced to insignificance and will be nothing more than a footnote in history. Is that your real game?"

"The tempering of souls is not a game, Katherine. I am very real, mortal man. I felt real pain when they tortured me as a POW. I suffered as I was forced to denounce my fellow prisoners, my country, my parents. They-my mother and father- died before I was released. They never knew the lies I wrote as a single flame sat burning nearby. The smell of burnt flesh isn't easily forgotten. Even when it wasn't your skin melting the stench of molten flesh made you quake with fear." He slowly guided his prison on wheels so he was in front of her. He tugged off his gloves and let the mangled flesh on his hands show.

She swept over his battered form in spite of her self. She could only imagine his torture. "Then how can you inflict suffering on others?"

"**I** don't inflict suffering; I allow it to temper the soul. _'Because he himself suffered when he was tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.' _Hebrews 2:18."

The famous Beckett glare had no effect. "How can you stand by and let this happen? How can you claim to be a holy man when you participate in evil?"

"Being tempted is not evil. Our Lord and savior was tempted. It is giving into the temptation where evil grows and gains power. Every child of God deserves the chance to know the grace that awaits when you come out of the wilderness. Come out of the wilderness, Katherine."

Her silence let him continue his aggrandizing.

"Grace sustains you through greater trials. I am an instrument of God. I listen to the transgressor and imagine a setting where they can choose to overcome that temptation - that snare laid by evil. I give them exhaustive counsel and support to aid them along the journey. Roy Montgomery paid his penance and achieved grace despite his sins." He wheeled his chair back and forth; the jerky movements his equivalent of pacing.

She ignored his self righteous claim of being Montgomery's atonement. The other claim, if true, made her incredulous. "That's how you found out? You heard about the mobsters getting snatched in confession?"

"I cannot talk about what I've heard in confession. I must clarify my capacity here is as a counselor, not clergy."

"Again with the semantics. Make your point."

"I hear a great variety of pitfalls. I work with unsung heroes to try to live up to high standards: officers of the court, firefighters, veterans and police. I hear who casts their lots with the Sodomites or commits adultery. Who gambles, drinks, or seeks the escape of drugs. Since I work with law enforcement I also hear who confesses **no** remorse when killing. Who _likes_ to kill. Almost everyone believes they suffer from a lack of money. These human frailties are not new."

Kate desperately tried to follow the man's logic. "Even if you don't help Bracken you aren't opposing him."

"To quote the Holy Book: '_No temptation has overtaken you except what is common to mankind. And God is faithful; he will not let you be tempted beyond what you can bear. But when you are tempted, he will also provide a way out so that you can endure it._' 1Cor. 10:13"

She probed for a different weaknesses, "You accept blood money! You violate the sanctity of the confession and reveal these sins?"

"No! I never violate my vows. I do not judge from whence my bounty comes. William funds my mission so I am able to minister to this select group of unsung heroes. I have exhaustively studied the breaking point of souls and compiled statistics on their choices when at the brink. That will be my legacy, my everlasting gift to the world. To aid me in my noble endeavor William also funded a personal helper who assists me and cares for me. Since he types my notes and my abstracts he is well aware of the details of each individual study; however, each case is presented without any personal data and carefully stripped of identifying details. My text is fully compatible with my vows and will stand up to professional scrutiny."

"Your assistant obviously has access to your daily schedule and their faces and real names. That's how the dragon gets his info. Where is this so-called assistant now?" This was a real lead - a person who could take down Bracken. Her mind was racing with possibilities…

Father waved his hand dismissing her conclusion. "All I know is many of the temptations I have foreseen come to pass. The cutting edge of my research is predicting who chooses a righteous path or who falls prey to the seduction of hiding their sins and reaching for monetary rewards. As to my assistants whereabouts that is up to Saint Peter. My devoted companion supposedly hung himself 10 days ago." The man bowed his head to hid the real remorse at the loss of life. He wheeled over to the side table and grabbed a tissue.

So that was the priest's triggering event that made him come forward. Still, Beckett staggered under the enormity of what she faced. The desperation of people's most intimate shortcomings dangled like a sword hung by a thread over their lives. Hundreds of lives would be ruined if Bracken was forced into a public trial. A long list of pawns were available. Obviously his funds were almost limitless and his influence vast. Her pathetic attempts to fight this kind of power was truly a lost cause. She glanced at the man warped by brutality and now wielding life and death for his own agenda. "What do you want from me?"

"What I want is irrelevant. Your destiny is to face the dragon. It is the price for atonement- payment for your mother's interference into an action that went against the will of God. The confrontation between you and William will only have one survivor. I offered to be the avenger with you as my witness but you declined that plan. Now the task falls to you."

"Slay the dragon? You want me to kill Bracken? Isn't that a little hard for you to justify?"

"The Old Testament is full of vengeance. Besides, he may kill you. Regardless of the victor, the other will be tainted for life. Penance must be paid. Mr. Bracken will fall one way or another." He actually looked contrite - almost tearful at the scene playing out in his head.

A cathartic laugh escaped Kate. "And if I decline your so-called offer?"

He reached for another tissue on the side table. Too late Beckett realized the handgun was still there. More swiftly than she thought the old man could move it was steady in his hand and pointed at her.

"Your choice is to confront him or be killed by me in self-defense."

"Shooting an unarmed woman can hardly be construed as self-defense."

"This is your weapon, or, more accurately, a weapon it appears you stole from a crime scene. It has your fingerprints on it from when I 'accidentally' dropped it. By the time anyone responds to the gunshot I'll be flopped on the floor looking like a helpless invalid who barely survived a tussle with a crazed patient. The file on my desk says I first met you in the hospital after your shooting. I truly did met your father at that time. I have witnesses who will testify I have been counseling you for the past week. My diagnosis it that you are obsessed with avenging your mother's death. To that end you've stolen this pistol from a crime scene hoping to use it to kill Mr. Bracken. I'll say you snapped when I spoke to you about the sins of your mother."

She shook her head at the emotional baggage that kept her from seeing this ploy quicker. "If you shoot me Bracken goes unchallenged. You lose and he wins."

"Then task will fall to Richard. If not him, then to his daughter. The young are the easiest to manipulate." The grey steel in his eyes backed up his threat.

She growled at him, "I'll see you in hell first. Leave the Castles out of this." She stood.

He chambered a bullet.

She eased over to his desk. She tore her eyes from the weapon pointed at her and quickly scanned the folder verifying the truth of that part of his gambit. She was unarmed but she still had one piece of leverage hidden away. Stalling was her best tactic for the moment. "Is your plan to hold me here until Bracken makes his trip to NYC tomorrow?"

"Heavens no." He checked his watch, keeping his aim steady, then knocked over the side table. His cup of tea spilled across the floor soaking the box of tissues and already creating a scene where a struggle had supposedly taken place. "The iPhone on the desk is yours. It was retrieved from Mr. Castle's Ferrari and will help validate the many trips you've made here trying to comes to terms with your resignation from the NYPD. Use it to call the Senator."

_Damn his preparation is good. But if he is checking his watch then derailing the timeline might save me_. "You want me to politely ask the Senator to a private meeting so we can duel? Sounds like a dumb plan."

"Make the call. Threaten him. It will go to voicemail giving further proof of your vendetta. Tell him to meet you 'in the wilderness at 6 p.m.' or you will voice your accusations to the media."

"Then we go to the meeting and have our showdown? How trusting of you that each of us will play by the rules." She feigned an indifference and once again regretted the control her mother's murder had over her life.

"Nonsense. William knows he and I are parting ways. He is anxious to tie up unfinished business and is already headed to the meeting despite what his public itinerary says. To ensure your cooperation the Wilderness is an inpatient psychological treatment facility in a remote location where I am having you committed. I control the staff and assure you we will have ample privacy."

"Taking me out screaming in a straight jacket?"

"Still a doubting Thomas? After you make the call to threaten the Senator you will swallow the GHB (Gamma-hydroxybutyrate) that will sedate you. When you wake up you'll have this weapon with you and your nemesis will met you alone. I predict only 1 of you will emerge alive. The other will have ample justification for killing the other but still be rather tainted by the encounter. We will all be judged."

Beckett made no move physically. Mentally she was weighing her options. Stalling.

He glanced again at the time. "The transport will be here soon. Please use the speaker on the phone so I can ensure you've dialed the correct number. It is your choice to keep Mr. Castle and his daughter out of our arrangement."

"No."

"No? You have limited options. You cannot be suggesting you wish to be shot - again- and let the meeting fall to Mr. Castle."

"Castle isn't here. He is safely out of your clutches. If I don't call him with a key phrase he will release a portion of the information to the Washington Post. My agenda is in play, not yours." Really it was Castle's backup plan still in play, but Kate didn't need to give away that secret.

"Katherine, I have no compunction about shooting you."

"I'm not calling Bracken and giving you any more ammunition to frame me."

"I'll shoot." He took aim at her head. Even being in a hospital facing down a wimpy .22 caliber the close range of the head shot gave her no chance of survival. They both knew that.

What Father Ernesto didn't know is that she was wearing a wire. The entire conversation was being recorded. If she allowed herself to be drugged the collaborating evidence could be discovered and lost. A gunshot would bring immediate help. At least this way Castle, and the world, would know the truth. She edged away from the desk, turned her back, and hoped the simple act of defiance would confound the deluded man's carefully laid trap. She closed her eyes and waited for her fate.

* * *

_Author's Note: First, apologies to any Catholics for creating a priest who borders on being a villain. Obviously priests have broken vows before and I twisted that history to fit in the Castle universe and explain to myself just how Bracken finds his pawns. Also I was always intrigued by the line Lockwood delivers: "If you had not sinned so spectacularly God wouldn't have sent a punishment like me." Those were some of the main elements that made this story come to life. 2 chapters left…_


	22. Blastoff

The chaos that followed started with a bang not from a weapon but from a small blast ripping the lock off the door. 2 men quickly leveled their guns at the priest, another placed himself as a human shield in front of Beckett and the last strolled calmly through the door and assessed the situation. Beckett waited for Castle or Esposito to show themselves, but neither appeared. The door was again slid shut. The complex and large conspiracy had a few new players.

Tense looks shot around the room.

The man standing between Beckett and the priest had a bulge under his jacket indicating a weapon, holstered - for now. The former cop eased back where the desk might provide some protection if bullets started flying.

"Ms. Beckett, are you unharmed?" His face was unfamiliar but the accent stirred a distant memory. She nodded and waited for the new dynamic to play out.

"Father Ernesto, please hand over your weapon."

The priest no longer had a clear shot at Beckett. He switched his aim to the person wielding the most power in the room: the man without a gun. "I assume William no longer wished to meet at…"

The silencer kept the single shot from echoing loudly. The small hole right between the priests eyes began to ooze blood as he slumped in his wheelchair.

The execution startled the former detective.

The raven haired man justified it, "My men are trained to protect me at the slightest provocation." He waved for them to lower their guns. "Senator Bracken's public schedule is inaccurate. Can you can aid us with any information about the elusive dragon?"

Cautiously she moved away from the man in front of her and faced the person currently in control. "Who are you?"

He smiled at her. "We have a vested interest in seeing you unharmed and securing the Senator. Beyond that you would be best served if I tell you as little as possible."

The former cop studied the weapons brandished by the armed men. They were Russian made. The accent was middle Eastern. She had a sinking feeling that Bracken was slipping from her grasp. "You executed Bracken's rival-the only man who could testify against him. You're going to help him flee from the U.S. and evade justice. I would be best served by telling you as little as possible."

Everything was crumbling. Bracken would bask in the sun in a non-extradition country and wield his power from afar. If his lackeys let her live any future would always be a living hell. The bounty on her head will never let her come out of hiding and by association anyone she loved was in the crosshairs. She had no chance, no future. Her gloomy speculations were interrupted by a guttural expletive.

"Allowing the Senator to escape justice is the **opposite** of our plan, and anyone helping him, or hindering us," he flicked a hand towards the dead priest, "will meet with grave and serious repercussions. We are rather in a unique situation to _ensure_ swift judgment. Your court system can be rather lengthy. The guilty party has many favors to call in and we can negate his wealth and power. As long as we can affect his removal quietly, your government will happily forgo the public humiliation of a high ranking official perpetuating a scandal that will last a decade and take too many other powerful people down with him."

Using a silencer to kill was hardly keeping within the spirit of 'keeping things quiet.' Beckett stared in disbelief. No way she was falling into another carefully laid trap. Her silence spoke for her.

"I see." He decided to be more forthcoming. "Fariq Yusef sends his regards. He thanks you both for repaying the debt of information by uncovering who is responsible for arming the rebellion taking place in my country. We verified it. The rebel's weapons are coming from the factory whose ultimate ownership can be traced to a hidden company owned by William Bracken."

"You're Syrian? Your country is in the midst of civil unrest and you're here to hunt Bracken?" Yeah, Beckett knew the Senator was a power player but this was a little too big to imagine. She shook her head in bewilderment. _Bracken has global enemies…_

Again her thoughts were interrupted, "We seek to apprehend Mr. Bracken with all due haste. Certainly in this endeavor we are united?"

Beckett reached out to start searching the dead priest's desk. "Supposedly their meeting was scheduled at 6 p.m. at an in-patient psychiatric facility called the Wilderness. Bracken is on his way."

With a nod the 2 men with holstered weapons stepped out to make calls.

Beckett finished searching the desk but found nothing related to the Senator. She gave a pointed look at the man in the suite.

He shrugged and allowed a little more information loose, "Your senator's agenda is not specifically targeted towards my country but rather an fortuitous opportunity. His companies make money selling the arms to the rebels and then makes more money knowing the unrest drives up oil prices. Your government is quite anxious to disavow all knowledge of his enterprises. As I stated previously, as long as his removal is _quiet_ they are quite happy to have our swift justice be the final word on the so-called dragon."

"I want Bracken to answer for his crimes. I _need _to bring him to justice. Don't doubt my personal resolve in this matter."

"Your resolve is well documented. Do you know what they call you?"

The hard set of her jaw made the upcoming platitudes a waste of time. Nevertheless the diplomat tried to soothe the wild look from her eyes. "Our dossier on you is quite flattering. They call you Detective _Bucket_. There is an American cliché about: 'Its in the bucket - a slam dunk - a sure thing.' That's what they call you behind your back. The court prosecutors are quite vocal about any case you bring to them ends with a conviction because you hand them the complete package ensuring a successful outcome. You uncover motive. You unlock the defendants psyche allowing the officers of the court to craft a prosecution that unravels the façade of the previously unseen killer. Other detectives have a higher closure rate. You have the highest rate of _solving _the crime. You have the highest conviction rate."

"Then what makes you think I will let this case go without a trial?"

"Because the judgment of this man can only be assured unhindered from outside forces. Many powerful influences are at odds. We will get to the truth. We are committed to get to the bottom of these forces in play without the unnecessary carnage of ruined lives."

"Excuse me if I doubt a foreign government has the best interest of the victims as a priority."

"Victims are exactly why my interests take precedent. Thousands of lives were cut down with the weapons he sold in my country. His financial interests led to civil unrest and mass slaughter." He paused, respectful of the personal loss and life long quest of the woman before him. "Yes, well, I personally assured Mr. Castle that the murder of Johanna Beckett would be included in the charges read at his trial. The proceedings will be held in secret but any admission will be forwarded to…"

She staggered backwards and sat down.

"Ms. Beckett?"

"Castle did **not** broker a deal with you about my mother's murderer without talking to me." The high pitch of her voice emphasized her near hysterical reaction. "I don't believe you talked to Rick!"

"How else would I know you are wearing a wire? Mr. Castle's deal can be discussed later. Right now we need to vacate this area."

_Run_. Her instinct was to run. Shaking hands scooped up the laptop, her phone and fake file. Uncertainty reigned as she looked for clues to the next move. She took a deep breath and forced down her old habits.

"Mr. Alamani will stay and deal with the authorities." The man who acted as a human shield nodded at Beckett. He went to the dead man and retrieved the gun, substituting a different one. "He has diplomatic immunity which will keep the officers of the law from being too surprised when the entire matter is quickly hushed from above."

Hesitantly she pointed to .22 caliber pistol, "That weapon was going to be used to frame me. Do you care if I…"

Without hesitation the firearm was handed over to her. "How alike are minds of intrigue. The weapon now in the hands of the dead is one manufactured by Bracken's company. We leave seeds whose roots are traced back to him."

Beckett ignored the silent plea of her burner phone to accept a call from Castle. It upped the tally to 5 missed calls and 7 text messages. She followed the sweep of the Syrian's arm to precede him out of the room and away from death scene.

"What now?" She hid the pistol in her purse and shifted the files and computer to her left arm.

"May we offer you a ride somewhere?"

Is it a ruse? I am being allowed to simply walk away while foreign agents are hunting Bracken?

The Senator was powerful and he had powerful enemies. It was truly so much bigger than she realized.

Castle flipped this story upside down in a hurry.

She just went from being prey to total freedom and Bracken was now the hunted. _How poetic. _As an avid fan of Castle's books she knew his stories always ended with justice but not always the legal kind. _He brokered this deal. He made this happen… _She shook her head and tried to quiet the swirl of thoughts as she exited the VA hospital surrounded by foreign agents.

"Ms. Beckett?"

She waved him off keeping her back to the trio of men. Only the hunch of her shoulders betrayed the weight she still carried. She wasn't a cop. She wasn't a target. She was a woman torn between the living and the dead. She walked away - from what she wasn't sure, but she walked away free and unhindered, and alone.

* * *

Epilogue to follow.

_A/N: I feel compelled to share that the Syrian part of this story was written long ago inspired by Setup/Countdown episodes Now it seems both trite and timely in light of current events. Regardless, this is the end of the story - Bracken hunted, Beckett not hunted, due largely to the master of mysteries: Richard Castle. Thanks for those who came along for the ride. The epilogue will ties up a few loose ends._


	23. EPILOGUE

EPILOGUE

* * *

Of course she was agitated… unsettled… floundering - whatever word the writer would choose was apt. She shrugged off her thoughts of him and blamed it on the smell of coffee wafting in from the kitchenette. It wasn't the weak, bitter brew that was old and stale that her caffeine addiction forced her to drink yesterday morning. This was the good stuff. **_His_** special brew.

Her eyes flicked to the laptop and she reached out to touch the images on the screen… and then stopped herself with a huff. She muted the sound. The press conference was over and reporters were repeating the questions as if different answers might magically appear.

The media was in a feeding frenzy. The crush of national (maybe international?) news anchors and journalists were desperate to find the back-story about the former Senator who resigned with a hastily scrawled note and was eluding the public. _It was almost as if he vanished off the face of the earth_. After 2 days Mayor Weldon was filling the void releasing the evidence that exonerated his reputation and cleared his charities of any questionable transactions. The mayor's stalwart time in office made the press leap to the conclusion that he was the frontrunner to fill the Senator's vacancy. A subdued Richard Castle stood behind his friend. Beckett saw enough. She shut the laptop closing off the live news conference.

She pushed herself off the couch and, like a moth to a flame, she followed the scent of the dark brew. First she had to get by her father. He was the bearer of the energizing elixir and he didn't bother to hide a smirk as his daughter gravitated towards the coffee pot.

Kate successfully ignored the project spread out on the kitchen table. Jim's hunting cabin didn't have a desk, so the entire table was strewn with papers. The project was too big for the space, metaphorically and literally, but they felt it should be done and Jim volunteered to bear the weight of the task.

She was silent and her father wanted to force the conversation. "He also sent that special creamer for you: some sort of foo-foo French Vanilla flavor."

Instead of being baited into acknowledging the coffee - the _source_ of the coffee- she tried her usual tactic of distraction, "How's it going?"

The financial folder of Bracken's hidden accounts were on one half of the table. The other half had notes about the victims. Jim's experience as an attorney was trying to determine compensation, however inadequate, to families of the wronged. Bracken's ill-gotten gains were anonymously drained and waiting to be dispersed. Jim looked up, "It's hard. I have a new respect for what juries are asked to decide. How does one put a price on life? Should a victim's grown child who has a drug problem get an anonymous cash sum or should compensation come as fully paid fees for a rehab facility?"

She mumbled bitterly, "It's still blood money." She rummaged in the refrigerator for items to make grilled cheese sandwiches and ignored the unfinished discussion about using even a small portion of the money for Johanna's scholarship foundation.

"So we should do nothing or give it to some random charity? Or is it better, no matter how difficult, to disguise the money as some windfall to each family of Bracken's victims?"

Beckett paused. It wasn't fair to grump at her father. He was making hard decisions and she washed her hands of the mess. She gave him a wistful smile. It was the best she could offer.

That was all the encouragement Jim needed to forge ahead. "Was the earlier call from Rick?"

"No. Captain Gates." The skillet clanked down on the stove and she turned on the burner.

"And she said…"

"Leading the witness, counselor."

"The witness is being uncooperative."

She kept busy buttering the bread and downplayed the significance of the words. "She asked me to come back after I serve the same 30 day suspension as Esposito."

"And you said…"

"I thanked her and said I need to think about it. I'm not sure if she _wants_ me or if she _needs_ me because the 12th precinct is in shambles. I resigned; Espo is suspended, and another detective is under investigation. There is also an officer who works the evidence warehouse that just got suspended." She fussed over the sandwiches as they sizzled and watched the cheese melt. "Is this cross-examination over? I want to eat lunch in peace."

"Just a few more questions, detective." He smirked at his acknowledgement of her profession. He hadn't always been accepting, but so much was different - now. He knew she'd go back. He knew she needed to hear his support. He also knew she needed prodding.

She allowed, "3 questions and then I'm done."

Jim Beckett paused to consider them carefully. "Do you know how incredibly proud I am of you?"

That made her turn around. Kate kissed her father's cheek. "Thank you, daddy. We both can put this behind us and mom might even be able finally to rest in peace." She turned back to cut the gooey goodness in halves and added fresh strawberries to their plates.

His second question was just as important, "Are Martha and Alexis settled back in their lives?"

She smiled at the new closeness of the blended family. "Martha couldn't wait to get back to her acting school and test out some scenes from Castle's play. Alexis contacted her college advisor about doing an independent study on microeconomics of Amish towns. They are both so amazing."

Jim pushed aside the documents and waited for his daughter to join him at the table. He wanted to read her expressions; he wanted her to know how important this last question was to him.

"Are you going to forgive Rick?"

_Great._ It was so expected that Kate Beckett would run and trounce Rick's heart that even her father was going to bat for the long suffering beau. She shook her head at the damage - the carnage of the past that still had to be put to right.

All Jim saw was the sad shake of her head. "You glow when you've been with him."

"Dad!" his Katie blushed, then tried desperately to scold her father back to neutral ground. "I know we are closer since last summer, but there are still limits to what I'll talk about with you!"

He pushed ahead with his sneak attack. Discussing her feelings would be easy compared to the bent of his previous observation. "Don't push Rick away. Don't blame him for making the tough choices. **I** pushed him to look at the bigger picture. I knew my story about Bracken paying for a hit and run on a child would make Rick- a devoted father- seethe with anger. Our loss -no matter how painful- is only part of a larger wound that hurt all of humanity."

"Dad!" Katie interrupted him, "You can't manipulate Castle like that! He could just as easily decided to put out a hit on Bracken."

"No! I've heard you and Jo remark on it too many times to doubt: Rick's books always have the good guys win without sinking into moral quicksand."

"Yeah, always a happy ever after," she grumped.

"No, everything doesn't always work out as we hoped." Jim features reflected the grief at the turn of events in real life. "You and I are here just like last summer and Rick is back in the city, so I have a right to chime in. I worry you need to blame someone for Bracken not being publicly censured, and you traded your future happiness to stand on principle."

She topped off his coffee cup just to give her hands something to do. "Castle got you hooked on his ridiculously good coffee. That's the real reason you miss him."

The quip was a classic Beckett sidestep. "Katie, I'm invoking our vow - that promise we made to each other to be honest even when we'd rather die than face our feelings."

His daughter paused with a cup at her lips. She drew strength just from inhaling the aroma of the warm beverage before taking a large gulp and stalling for time.

Her father pushed ahead, "I'm sorry Bracken didn't confess his many sins and get to suffer the brutalities of prison life as he awaited execution on death row. Your vow to bring Johanna's killer to justice was thwarted by those closest to you and I claim a share of your blame. Don't put it all on Rick."

Her father looked like a man awaiting sentencing.

That finally forced Kate to open up, "There was no hope of ever seeing Bracken serve a day in jail. With his connections and money he probably would never have even been indicted. No matter how much evidence I had against him, he had too much leverage to get out of hot water. I finally understand that. Castle was forced to call in outside forces as a last resort by people we both respect. Rick did what he had to do. It was the only choice with an acceptable outcome even it wasn't my choice."

"Then why are you punishing him?" An arched eyebrow questioned the question. Jim repeated his conclusion, "You're here and he's there…"

Kate slowly set down her mug of coffee. Reluctantly she admitted, "Rick made me come here. I wanted to be back in the city with him, but he insisted we make sure Bracken was really gone. He thinks I need time to sort things out in my head and decide who I am without mom's murder, the 12th, and without him crowding me."

"What's the verdict?"

"A week ago my options were living life on the run as a target or making a futile stand against overwhelming odds. Everyone I cared about was in danger. Now Bracken is disgraced and on the run or caged in a foreign land - probably awaiting execution. The poetic justice might even be more appropriate than whatever the legal system would decree. Investigations are starting into the guilty who were protected by Bracken's power. I have my life back in whatever form I want it to be." She looked down, overwhelmed by how much emotion she was feeling.

They both realized how much Castle had done and tried to settle the feelings of gratitude into something longer lasting. "So what do you want, Katie?"

She peeked up through her veil of hair. "I believe the attorney has exceeded his allotted number of questions." She smirked at her father, enjoying the easy relationship they fought so hard to regain.

"I believe the witness is stalling and has yet to answer the substance of the question." He waited, the truth too important to let slide.

"There's a man out there who is a righter of wrongs. He promised we could do this together. He promised he had my back. He delivered."

A sappy grin formed as she lost herself in thoughts of him…"He's proven himself time and again and now I get to return the gesture. He thinks I won't come back. He thinks I'll pull back from him but I said I chose him and I mean it. I gave myself completely to him and I'm not running away. It's my turn to prove to him he's all I want. I'm more sure of that now than ever. He did everything for me; made the darkness give way and replaced it with light. I'll be by his side as soon as he lets me."

She pulled out of the warm reverie and forced herself not to shy away from the honesty. "We'll figure out the rest - together."

Jim squeezed her hand in relief. "Here's to happy ever after..."

* * *

_Author's note: I hope you enjoyed this long and sometimes rambling story. I love this show but I'm off to write under another name for another fandom. There are some great writers here and I've connected with some amazing and wonderful people. Thanks one and all. Fare thee well…_


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